After Life
by Captain Katie-cat
Summary: A remarkable woman's life is remembered by those who knew her and thus loved her
1. Chapter 1

Title: After Life

Author: Captain Katie

Rating: NC-17 for homosexual content, violence and language

Pairing: J/7, Very mild J/C

Spoilers: MAJOR SPOILERS for Peter David's "Before Dishonor", a response to it really though you should be aware that everything is up for grabs

Summary: A remarkable woman's life is remembered by those who knew her and thus loved her

Disclaimer: Paramount owns anything relating to Star Trek, and the writers, especially Peter David, and actors/actresses own some of the words  
WARNING: Major character death: Admiral Janeway dies at the end of "Before Dishonor", so really it's not my fault.

Feedback: Yes please!

CHAPTER 1

_Indiana_

"KATHRYN!"

Gretchen Janeway jolted awake in her bed with the scream of her beloved daughter's name still on her lips. Shaky, finely boned hands pushed wavy silver tendrils of hair away from her sweat dampened skin as she regained some semblance of composure. Her cobalt colored eyes swept over the same bedroom she had slept in for the last thirty-five years and aside from the fall breeze that pushed her curtains with gentleness she could discern nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that should have woken her from her deep sleep. And then, like a tidal wave, her dream, her nightmare, came back to her and she bit back a sob.

"Kathryn." Gretchen held one hand close to her neck, as her throat began to close with unshed tears. The nightmare had seemed so real. Her adored daughter, who had just been returned to her two years ago by the grace of whatever power in the universe existed, was horribly displayed in her nightmare. Instead of the stalwart Admiral her daughter had become, Kathryn was a bloodied carcass in a pool of tar.

Gretchen felt her stomach becoming sick and the bed that had been so inviting earlier in the evening now became a discomforting place. She rose gracefully from it and pulled on a light blue robe. Even when it was secured tightly around her petite form, Gretchen shivered from a cold that could not be taken away by any tangible means. The image of the dream frightened her in a way that nothing in her life ever had. And for that, she had the very strong urge to contact her daughter, to ensure that she was all right.

She could immediately picture how Kathryn would smile indulgently and tell her that she had everything under control, she always did and not to worry. But even if Gretchen wanted to, and oh did she want to, she couldn't contact Kathryn, because her daughter was off on one of her missions. She wasn't told what exactly it entailed but she knew Kathryn probably wouldn't be readily reached by anyone outside of Starfleet command. The life of an Admiral. She had forgotten how secretive it all was. The last time there had been an Admiral Janeway, it had been twenty-two years ago and it had been her husband, Edward. If she could tell Edward of her worry now he would give her the same indulgent smile that his daughter, who was so much like him, would give.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, our little Goldenbird is made of sterner stuff than most." Edward's pride for his daughter would have shone brightly then and she would have been comforted by it. But now, alone at three thirty in the morning she felt no comfort, cold or otherwise.

However, there was one other Janeway she _could_ call.

"Mom, do you have any idea what time it is?" Her other daughter Phoebe, born four years later than her Kathryn, glared back from the view screen as unruly strands of dark red hair were being tied into a ponytail.

"I know exactly what time it is. That's not why I'm calling you." The husky tones were ones few people attempted to contradict. The added steeliness to Gretchen's eyes didn't hurt. "Have you spoken to your sister recently?"

"Katie? I haven't talked to her for weeks. She's been busy with missions I guess. Why?" Phoebe could tell that her mother was worried, deathly so. "Mom, the Borg threat is gone. Earth is once again safe from the evil clutches of the Collective."

Only five hours ago, it had been officially announced by Federation channels that the possible Borg threat to Earth, a threat that had wiped out Pluto and a fleet of thirty-seven starships not to mention the lives of those Starfleet officers, had been neutralized. And now the good people of Earth were going about their business as usual and the threat that the Borg had posed, aside from those who had actually lost family members in the Slaughter of Sector 108, would be talked about on news feeds and gossiped about like the latest fashion trend. Phoebe had to shake her head as she thought of how desensitized people were these days to the tragedies that surrounded them.

"When you spoke with her last did she mention where she was going or what her mission was?" Gretchen wanted to reach in and shake her daughter who sounded so flippant about the Borg. "She wasn't going to Sector 108 was she?"

"I don't know. She doesn't really tell me much about her assignments. But I don't think they would have sent her out to the frontlines. She was probably in that bunker at Starfleet." Phoebe shrugged. Her sister's new position as Admiral would seem somewhat exciting to someone who didn't know how much bureaucracy was involved. And how much secrecy. Kathryn had never talked all that much about her Captaincy, but now she spoke even less about her Admiralty. "Are you all right, Mom, you seem kind of…" Finely boned, elegant hands waved in the air as if to catch the right adjective.

"I—I had a nightmare. About your sister." Gretchen watched as Phoebe's blue eyes widened at this. There was no indulgent smile playing on this daughter's lips.

"What sort of nightmare?" Phoebe didn't necessarily believe in being able to predict the future. But she did believe in familiar connections. And she had heard of instances where someone will have a feeling that something bad had happened to a loved one and then they would call that person and find out they were in a shuttle accident or something.

"Your sister was—"

Something had startled her mother, distracted her from her words and perhaps even her thoughts as Gretchen's mouth opened wordlessly, her dark eyes were wide as they looked no longer at Phoebe but out the window she knew was to the side of the view screen. Her mother stood abruptly, knocking over the chair without care. Her voice was low, anxious.

"Oh, damn."

"No, Alynna, she deserves to know everything."

Admiral Alynna Nechayev, a small statured woman with narrow Slavic features and light blonde hair who all but made up for her diminutive size with an almost overwhelming command presence and no nonsense attitude looked unconvinced at the burly man who reminded her more of a silly grandpa than a great Admiral of Starfleet. She graced him with a patient look.

"Owen, how the hell do you suppose we tell a woman that her daughter was not only killed in the line of duty, but that she was assimilated, made the Borg Queen, and was more or less responsible for the deaths of hundreds? That _her_ daughter posed the greatest threat Earth has ever faced." Nechayev's voice maintained its evenness despite the emotions warring within. She had liked Kate Janeway; she had liked her a lot. And seeing her, seeing what the Borg had done to her had shaken Alynna more than anything else in her life ever had aside from perhaps the death of her husband at the Battle of Wolf 359. _Picard should have killed the whole damned Collective when he had the chance, _was the resounding sentiment in her mind.

"That… _thing_ wasn't Kathryn. It was a monster who possessed her body, not her." Owen Paris had known Kathryn Janeway since she was an eager and brilliant student at the Academy. She had surprised and impressed him then with her intelligence, her strength, her palpable energy and she soon became like another daughter to him. And now she was gone and it pained him intolerably to think of what he had lost, what the world, the Quadrant, the entire galaxy had lost. How terribly ironic that her death would come here in the Alpha Quadrant while she had persevered in the Delta, a part of him wished _Voyager_ had never reached home. Perhaps she would still be alive now if they hadn't.

"I know it wasn't Kate, but at the same time it was. As the Borg Queen she was something we could never have anticipated, never have prepared ourselves for." Nechayev was no fool. Every defense line would have fallen and then Earth too would have been overrun by the Borg. Assisted, albeit unwillingly, by a woman who had developed many of their contemporary planetary defense protocols. "You and I both know that if it wasn't for the time given us by that damned Doomsday Machine, Earth would have gone the way of Pluto."

Coldness spread through Nechayev as she remembered the last image of Kathryn Janeway she would ever have. Nothing had been recognizable except for the facial features that were so cold and heartless, with a mixture of pure and unadulterated superiority that they might as well have belonged to someone else. There was nothing left of the woman Nechayev had known as a young and ever eager Captain and then as the seasoned, mature, competent woman who had come back from the Delta Quadrant against all odds, tiny ship and wayward crew in tow, and most recently the youngest, and perhaps brightest, Admiral to come out of Starfleet in a very, very long time.

_Surrender. You have no choice. Certainly you must know that._ That husky voice Janeway could employ to get a person to do just about anything, that Alynna had always thought if only to herself quite captivating, had contained a strange metallic quality to it and a sadistic one when the Borg Queen had spoken to the Admirals in the Bunker. A place the Borg Queen should not have been aware of, but of course she had all the knowledge Kathryn Janeway possessed. She had known many secrets.

After the priority one message had been transmitted to The Bunker underneath Starfleet Headquarters from Picard, Alynna Nechayev had notified Owen Paris immediately. Despite all she knew Paris had gone through in his illustrious career: torture at the hands of Cardassians, lost battles in the war, the incarceration and then supposed loss of his son… Nechayev had been easily able to see that nothing in his life had adequately prepared him for what she had been forced by circumstances to tell him.

"Kathryn Janeway is dead." Alynna had not been about to mince words with the man. He deserved her calm, her control, even if internally she felt none of it.

Admiral Paris had stood then; light blue eyes had narrowed in disbelief, shock, anger. "What do you mean?"

"Owen, I've sent the classified report to you. But you deserve to hear it from me. Kathryn Janeway boarded the supposedly dead Borg Cube to further study its components when she was assimilated, transformed… into the Borg Queen." Nechayev had known that image of Kathryn as the Borg Queen would stay with her for a long, long time despite her wish to the contrary. She had almost shivered, but had managed to contain herself.

"My god!" He had sat then, probably without any conscious decision on his part, with his mouth agape.

_God had nothing to do with it_, she had thought before she had continued on. "Picard and the _Enterprise_ along with Seven of Nine and Ambassador Spock managed to hold off the Borg attack from decimating Earth. But just barely. They obtained the Doomsday Machine."

"The Planet Killer." It had been an exhalation of breath that neither required nor wanted a response. It had merely been an acknowledgement of how bad their situation had truly been. Admiral Owen Paris had cursed himself then. He had been on Qo'nos when the attack had begun and was in lockdown with the rest of the diplomats and Starfleet brass. Not exactly honorable, but the Klingons were nowhere near prepared enough to take on the Borg. Nor was Earth apparently.

"It bought us some time, but ultimately it wasn't successful, the cube… assimilated it and gained untold power from its consumption. Earth, Owen, was about to fall. We had no more lines of defense. Except one. The invasive program Geordi La Forge created. Seven of Nine was used as the carrier, but Kate knew about the virus and protected the cube from it." Again, Nechayev cursed Picard for not having had taken a stronger stance against the Borg when he had been given the perfect chance to do so. Genocide be damned.

"_Alynna_." His tone of voice had reminded Nechayev that this man had been a force to be reckoned with in his day. His eyes narrowed more at her reference to Janeway as having anything to do with Queen, but the facts were what they were and so he let her name be the only warning that she had best tread lightly.

"She prevailed though." Utmost pride had permeated Nechayev's tone then.

"Seven found a way to deploy it?" He hadn't really needed to ask, since Earth was still standing and the Borg cube was not.

"No, Kathryn Janeway, in her last moments saved us all. She managed to break through the Borg Queen's control and shut down the firewall protecting the Cube and the virus was released." The pride and gratitude that had filled Alynna was pushed aside as she looked compassionately at the man who had lost a woman not unlike a daughter to him. "The cube imploded, there was nothing left. I'm sorry, Owen."

His only response had been an order to go to Indiana. So, now here they were, almost oh four hundred, descending slowly above a cornfield.

"Landing struts deployed."

Nechayev ignored the Lieutenant's voice as she nodded with some encouragement to the man who had seemed to age ten years over the course of a few hours. He moved more gingerly and the presence that the man held so strongly faded with each step. In her decades with Starfleet she had had the dubious responsibility of telling many family members of their loved ones' death. She, herself, had gotten the same news from some unremembered Starfleet officer. But nothing could have adequately prepared her for the woman who greeted them as the shuttle door opened.

"_Blin_." The Russian explanative had been soft and low, but it still made Paris pause for a moment. He put a reassuring hand on the petite woman's shoulder. A comfort he rarely employed and she rarely accepted. But this was a rare moment.

"Gretchen." Paris voice had been soft and tentative, but it still seemed to fill the night sky.

The woman who stood on the porch of a well-worn farmhouse looked to be in her late sixties perhaps early seventies, she was quite lovely with silver hair that fell in thick waves about her robe clad shoulders and dark piercing blue eyes. There could be no doubt in Nechayev's mind or anyone else's for that matter that this woman was the mother of one of the greatest Starfleet officers of all time. Kathryn Janeway had shared her mother's compact form, high cheekbones, and elegantly boned hands. What Nechayev hadn't been prepared for the most was the similar indomitable strength this woman radiated, a bearing that wasn't necessarily commanding but had a steely authority to it nonetheless. Nechayev had always assumed Kate had been her father's daughter, but now she had to reassess that assumption as the woman stood with her hands on her slim hips and a defiant lift to her chin as if she was daring them to give her bad news. Nechayev regretted having to take the woman up on her dare.

"Owen, what the hell are you thinking? You know a shuttle of that magnitude isn't permitted on the Agricultural Farm." The tones were huskier with sleep, but it was clearly another aspect of the eldest Janeway that had been transmitted to her daughter.

"I'm sorry, Gretchen." Owen led the path up the stairs before he gestured toward the petite, stern looking Admiral who stood somewhat uncertainly next to him. "Alynna Nechayev, Gretchen Janeway."

"Mrs. Janeway." There was a brief handshake that didn't take Gretchen's eyes off of the man next to Nechayev.

Gretchen recalled with a cold feeling that spread swiftly that the last time Owen Paris had stepped foot on her property it was to tell her Voyager had vanished and if no news was forthcoming would be declared officially lost. Her nightmare flooded her thoughts and she almost gave into her knees buckling beneath her, but she held on to the railing and maintained equilibrium as she gave both Admirals an apprehensive and almost accusing look.

"What are you two doing here?" The voice went down incredibly low and seemed to drop the temperature on the porch drastically.

"It's… about Kathryn. At twenty-two thirty-one hundred hours, the thought to be dead Borg Cube imploded. Kathryn was on it, she was studying it. We—we've lost her. I'm so sorry, Gretchen." The arms that were meant to wrap around the small shivering woman for comfort were quickly batted away as a roar of unimaginable pain exploded from Gretchen's throat and shattered the night silence.

Nechayev knew she had never heard such a thing in her life and she hoped she never would again. Gretchen Janeway managed to maintain her footing even as she swayed precariously, hands clutched at her stomach and throat as if she was experiencing physical wounds, which Alynna thought sadly, she probably was. Her own stomach clutched as she watched the distress mix with anger so immense it made Alynna take a step back.

"Tell me this, how the hell my daughter was killed on a Borg cube that all the damned brilliant minds in Starfleet said was dead." Gretchen's petite frame shook with the intensity of her pain, her disgust, and her all consuming grief. She knew her heart had been irreparably broken this day. And she wouldn't rest until whoever was culpable would feel her grief that no mother should ever have to feel. Even if these two Admirals weren't to blame, they were here and that was good enough.

News of the Borg attack had been kept to a minimum. The public at large knew very little aside from orders to go to the nearest fortified shelters and then later that the Borg cube that had been looming menacingly above Earth had been destroyed. Cheers of triumph had filled the night sky. Gretchen now felt an incredible sickness that those who had cheered had also cheered the destruction of her adored daughter.

"By all accounts, it was, Mrs. Janeway." Nechayev flinched at the look those eyes had as they quickly shifted to her. "We don't know exactly how it reactivated, whether or not it was Kate's presence or if it had merely been playing possum. But you should know your daughter's sacrifice saved the world."

It wasn't the words Gretchen Janeway wanted to hear. She felt no comfort or even pride from that fact. She had lost something so precious to her, something she had just gotten back after seven long years of withdrawal, and now, her daughter, her beloved Kathryn was gone, forever.

The punch hadn't been expected, nor was the cold wood of the porch floor that came up and greeted Admiral Alynna Nechayev's back as she landed with a whoosh of surprised and pained air. It took her a moment to realize that Gretchen Janeway had landed quite an impressive left hook to her now stinging cheek. The redness that flowed indicated that the ring on Gretchen Janeway's left hand had torn the tissue; Nechayev pressed her hand to the wound as she raised herself into a seated position and watched as Owen's previously aborted attempt to lend comfort with strong arms was finally accepted by the woman who had seemed to collapse under her own weight.

Gretchen Janeway's back shook forcefully from the intensity of her sobs as she clutched desperately to Owen Paris while still trying to get away from him with disempowered fists to his chest. Kathryn's name, denials of the facts, and pleads to the gods were all intermingled with the anguished cries.

"Mom!"

For a split second, Nechayev thought Kate Janeway had once again done the impossible and come back from the dead as she heard the husky voice. But it was too light to be the Admiral's. And when she took in the woman that was now running toward them at a dead sprint from a parked hovercraft none of them had heard make its approach she felt an unbelievable level of disappointment. This woman was not Kathryn Janeway. Death was a place even the iconic Captain of _Voyager_ couldn't come back from. Kathryn Janeway was gone forever and for the first time since the whole dreadful ordeal had begun, Alynna felt tears well in her brown eyes at the inconceivable loss.

All thoughts of pleasantries and decorum left swiftly as Phoebe Janeway bounded up the stairs and pushed Owen Paris out of the way and almost to the floor next to Nechayev as she grasped her mother's shaking shoulders.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Phoebe felt icy stabs of fear move about her torso. She had never seen her mother like this. Even when daddy had died her mother had been strong and sure, Kathryn had already fallen apart and it was Gretchen who had maintained composure for the sake of her eldest daughter. Phoebe's blood turned to ice as she whispered her sister's name. "Katie."

"Phoebe, oh god, she's gone! She's gone!" One hand that was speckled red clasped at her mouth agape with horror as the other hand clutched desperately at Phoebe's tunic. The silken material was crunched and ruined under the strong fingers and if it had been any other time Phoebe would have teased her mother. But now was not the time for teases.

If a heart could stop beating, just stand motionless in one's chest, if it were possible for it to be too scared to pump blood anymore it would have in Phoebe at her mother's words. A buzzing of blood pumping into her ears and the buckling of her knees that had both supported her mother's weight and her own was unacknowledged even as they dropped to the floor of their porch, arms grasped around one another.

Phoebe was the first to emerge from the mingled cries of mother and daughter. She helped her still sobbing mother to her unsteady feet with hands trembling but strong. One hand grasped her mother's even as she turned to point a finger from the other one at the two Admirals who had the audacity to still be standing there with, to her, false expressions of sympathy. Something Starfleet taught their higher brass and she hated them for it. And she hated them for what they took away from her and her mother.

"Leave." It was an order with a seemingly deadly consequence if disobeyed.

Nechayev could tell Paris was wounded, that he wanted to say something, anything. He too was grieving and Alynna knew that he wanted someone besides her to share it with. But the look in the blue eyes of Phoebe Janeway was so steely in its determination that the words died on his lips. He nodded his head resolutely before he followed Nechayev's descent down the porch steps.

"Wait!" Tear streaked, but decisive, Gretchen removed herself from her daughter's grasp. "Come inside."

Phoebe's vehement protests stilled as her mother gave her a look of such authority that all she could do was give one last condemning glare to the Admirals before leading the way inside.

It wasn't until they entered the kitchen through the foyer and dining room that the still air was broken with words. Gretchen had wiped the tears away and now she was looking pointedly at the all too silent Admirals who looked out of place in her old fashioned home. She disregarded thoughts to their comfort and her own as her voice cut through them with its tone of command. "You two will tell me everything."

The activation of the coffee maker filled the pregnant pause. And as soon as the aroma of coffee filled the air another voice interrupted the Admirals' replies.

"No, turn it off, please, turn the goddamned thing OFF!" Before her mother could do anything but look regretful, Phoebe had crossed the small room and tore the machine from the countertop and threw it against the dark tiles of the kitchen floor. The glass and metal of the machine either shattered or bent from the force of the blow and the dark liquid spread quickly across the floor. Phoebe shook her head as if she had just emerged from a dream and realized what she had done.

"Leave it, Phoebe, it's not important. Take the Admirals into the living room. I'll be in shortly." Gretchen's voice had calmed and was filled with compassion for her youngest daughter whose pain she could feel intermingling with her own. But just as she had when Edward had died, she would be strong and sure for her daughter's sake.

Phoebe nodded and moved swiftly and gracefully out of the kitchen, not waiting to see if the Admirals followed her or not. They did so obediently and found themselves in a room that seemed to be permeated by memories, by ghosts. An old fashioned wood burning fireplace took prominence against one wall as well-worn couches and thickly cushioned chairs made a semicircle around it and a low glass coffee table. Paris and Nechayev attempted to avert their eyes from the mantel of the fireplace that contained many pictures of the Janeway family.

Phoebe didn't speak or look at either of them as she seated herself onto the dark brown leather couch that sat underneath bay windows. The night darkness was just beginning to lighten, as unbelievable as it would seem the world moved on.

Alynna Nechayev looked up suddenly as a slim, gray piece of technology entered her line of vision. It took her a moment to realize what it was. "Thanks."

A nod was the only response Nechayev received before she brought the old fashioned dermal regenerator to her own cheek. The heat it caused on her healing wound was almost more uncomfortable than the dull ache and she wondered if the other woman had intended that. Nechayev did know that she was grateful an apology hadn't been issued since they both would have known it wasn't sincere.

Gretchen lowered her suddenly exhausted body into the unfelt comfort of the couch. Two pairs of eyes trained pointedly at their guests. "Let's start at the beginning shall we? Why was Kathryn on that cube?"

"She made the orders herself. She deemed the risk minimal and the knowledge contained on the cube too valuable not to obtain. But instead of utilizing a starship that was available to her, she requisitioned a small science vessel, the _Einstein_, and a few of the resident Borg experts Starfleet had to offer and left for the cube two days ago." Now that the air was calm, Paris voice took on a tone that felt automatic, as if he was merely giving a lecture as some prestigious university. "The following morning, Annika Hansen met with Admiral Edward Jellico and told him that she feared for Kathryn's safety. Jellico contacted the _Einstein_, which unbeknownst to him had already been assimilated. He was reassured by who he thought was Admiral Janeway."

"Who was it?" Phoebe's brow creased in confusion. Perhaps someone had merely posed as Kathryn and she was actually hidden away somewhere, still alive.

"She—" Paris looked from one woman to the other not knowing exactly how to say what he insisted to Alynna that they tell them. "The Borg Queen."

Realization dawned on Gretchen's stricken expression a moment or two before her youngest daughter's.

"No." The word from both was the same desperate denial.

Paris knew the communication records that had been transmitted from the Borg cube into the Bunker resided in the report Nechayev had given him, but he hadn't had the courage to look at it yet. He wasn't quite sure he'd be able to handle it. He was quite certain the women before him couldn't see it at this time or perhaps ever. It's not how Kathryn Janeway should ever be thought of.

"We don't know how they did it, but the Borg transformed her, made her their new queen." Nechayev looked as sympathetically as she knew how at the two Janeway women, the older one's shoulder grasped by a slim hand of the younger, and tried to soften her voice as she related the facts. This wasn't a debriefing after all, but the telling of events of how their loved one had died. "What we do know is that after the decimation of Pluto and the destruction of the armada sent by Starfleet command, the Borg cube intended to come here and their Queen was prepared to spare the Earth if we gave them Seven of Nine and Captain Picard. Against orders the _Enterprise-E_ along with Seven and Ambassador Spock retrieved the Doomsday Machine from Epsilon Sigma V. It seemed to be working until the cube somehow transported behind it and absorbed it into itself. Seven, who had interfaced with the Doomsday Machine, connected to the hive mind and somehow found—aided in Kathryn's personality to overcome that of the Queen's, which allowed for the computer virus Seven was given to end the Borg threat."

"And killing my daughter in the process." It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. Starfleet had taken a lot from her over the years: her husband, her daughter's first real love, Kathryn for seven long painful years, and now Kathryn again, this time… forever. A part of her knew the Admiral's words were true, Kathryn would do nothing less than give up her life if it meant saving another's and her sacrifice had indeed saved billions. But at this time she could not think of the needs of the many, but only of those few who loved Kathryn immensely, those who would grieve the incredible loss, again… forever.

Gretchen Janeway stood then, her dignity palpable in her stance as she raised her chain and looked squarely into the eyes of the Admirals. "I need to make some calls. Arrangements need to be made."

The silver haired matriarch walked steadily out of the room without a look back, merely expecting the two Admirals to leave as she had subtly hinted at. Nechayev had the idle thought that this woman would have made one hell of Starship Captain. She rose with Paris and headed for the kitchen before a throaty alto voice stopped them.

Phoebe Janeway didn't have the bearing Kathryn had possessed with ease and Gretchen could project when she wished to but there was enough steeliness in her blue eyes that rooted the Admirals to the spot. "You two should go now. And… don't come back here."

Nods were the two Admirals only response as the red head followed her mother's path without another single word or look. The sunlight streamed through the open curtains and the sound of birds had finally been noticed as the world continued turning as if it hadn't been on the verge of destruction only hours ago. And undoubtedly would have fallen if not for the sacrifice of one lone woman.

CHAPTER 2

_The_ _Enterprise-E_

_Thank you, Seven_.

"Kathryn!" Seven of Nine jerked awake at the sound of her beloved former Captain's voice inside her head. It took her a moment to realize where she was: Sickbay, the _Enterprise-E_. In that moment of realization her mind was flooded with the knowledge that Kathryn Janeway was gone, dead, they had lost her to the Collective. Seven had wanted to join her and that was what had led her to be in Sickbay.

"Seven?" The voice was feminine and kind, light and compassionate, and not the voice Seven longed to hear once again. Her delusion that she had hallucinated the events that had transpired was expelled at the sight of the red headed woman who loomed over her.

"Doctor Crusher, what has happened?" Seven tried to sit upright but the restraint that rose from the biobed kept her unable to do so. A look of hesitation preceded the disengagement of the arched piece of technology. A warm, gentle hand to her shoulder indicated that the doctor still wanted Seven to remain where she was.

"You attacked a Mr.—Vargo on his cargo ship and proceeded to try to rip off your hand implant. It was a good thing he had a phaser handy or otherwise you might have killed him or yourself. We transported you to Sickbay about thirty minutes ago." Beverly Crusher smiled softly as if to add a bit of humor to a rather tragic set of circumstances.

Seven didn't care about Grim Vargo or her hand, which was certainly healed thanks to Doctor Crusher; she had only one thought in her mind. "Kathryn?"

"I know, Seven, I'm truly sorry. She was a remarkable woman." Beverly Crusher had certainly not been best friends with Admiral Janeway, but she had met her a handful of times and found the woman to be nothing short of amazing. She had an intelligence that shone in her eyes tempered with a wry sense of humor, confident in bearing but warm and engaging as well, and she had a charm and a disarmingly bright smile that captured anyone within range. Beverly knew personally how affected Jean-Luc was at the death of this woman. She could not imagine what this young woman was going through, though the self-inflicted wound would indicate it was somewhere close to hell.

_Thank you, Seven. _

"I have failed her." Seven looked at her mesh metal encased hand as if for the first time and felt revulsion for her Borg side that she had never felt before. It was this aspect that had taken away Kathryn and she hated it now. A gentle, but this time firm hand covered the mesh as if protecting it from assault.

Not for the first time since this whole ordeal had begun, Beverly sincerely wished Deanna was onboard. T'Lana was relieved of duty for the time being and even if the Vulcan counselor hadn't been, Beverly would be damned before she'd let that traitorous bitch anywhere near her Sickbay and more specifically this grieving woman.

"I'm so sorry, Seven." Cursed by the inadequacy of language, Beverly Crusher did all she knew how to do to lend comfort. Slim arms encircled the young woman and held her close and warm to her chest.

Strong hands disengaged from the embrace and clear, icy eyes met Beverly's green ones and she didn't think she had ever seen anything more heartbreaking in her life.

"I must speak with Captain Picard." Seven allowed her grasp to soften on the woman before her as she pulled herself into a seated position. The hands fell away from the doctor's arms as the red headed woman nodded her agreement as she tapped her comm. badge.

"Crusher to Picard, please report to Sickbay." The temptation to embrace Seven didn't decrease but Beverly knew the other woman didn't particularly welcome it. She couldn't help but put a comforting hand on a shoulder, which flinched underneath her touch. She decided perhaps touching was becoming more about her own comfort than Seven's and Beverly dropped her hand altogether.

"On my way, Picard out."

Seven brought her long slim legs to hang off the end of the bed before she dropped onto her feet. The sheet dropped from her naked form as she stood with her hands behind her back as she awaited Captain Picard's arrival with as much calm and composure she could manage.

"I—I'll go get you some clothes." Not waiting for a response, Beverly instructed the replicator to fashion a Starfleet uniform and quickly handed the mass of fabric to the tall pale woman who was all creamy flesh and silver metal.

_Seven, humans are merely modest, I don't really know why or when it began, but it's… customary to be clothed. So, please, just humor me. All right?_

Tears started to prick at Seven's right eye and a muscle twitched in her jaw as Kathryn's voice filled her with a sorrow she had never thought possible. She was certain if the Doctor had not successfully removed the failsafe device in her cortical array she would not exist now.

As efficient as ever, the uniform was in perfect place long before the swish of the Sickbay doors signaled Captain Jean-Luc Picard's entrance. He moved with a sturdy grace natural to the dignified man as he approached Seven of Nine and his Chief Medical Officer.

"Captain Picard, I have my report." The even voice would give away nothing of the inner turmoil the woman was experiencing.

The words of comfort stopped on Picard's lips as he watched a small muscle jerk sporadically in Seven's jaw and moisture captured in her one human eye and he understood her actions perfectly.

"Understood, Seven." Picard looked over to his CMO and without a word needing to be said between the two she nodded her head in assent. "If you'd follow me."

A minute nod preceded her obedience as she followed him into Doctor Crusher's office. The door sealed with a hiss behind them. Seven stood in her characteristic fashion, posture straight and tense, arms behind her back clasped together by her hands. Her icy blue gaze followed his descent into the plush chair.

"Please have a seat." Picard gestured to one of two chairs in front of the doctor's desk as he activated a PADD to take down Seven's report.

"I prefer to stand." Seven's eyes didn't flicker at all to the comfort of the chairs as she continued her rigid stance.

It wasn't so much the woman's height or pose that gave her a somewhat intimidating manner, it was her eyes. The way they looked down on him with such laser precision that an attempt to dissemble wasn't even an option. Not one to be intimidated for very long, Picard cleared his throat before he began.

"I thought you'd like to know Mr. Vargo isn't pressing assault charges against you and we've sent him on his way." Picard thought it had been astounding and fortunate beyond measure that the independent cargo Captain was in the vicinity and had rescued Seven from the vacuum of space. Though the blow to the head wasn't exactly the thanks he had deserved, Picard was relieved and bemused that the man had taken the attack with such nonchalance.

"It wouldn't be the first time a beautiful woman has knocked me upside the head." Grim Vargo had shrugged then.

_Baffling_, Picard thought.

Even more baffling had been the cargo Captain's next move. "Here's all the data strips on what my ship recorded. Thought you should have 'em."

Picard had activated the video feeds after the cargo vessel had jumped to warp and had been even more astounded that the tiny vessel had captured the visual of the Borg attack against the Starfleet Armada and the destruction of Pluto not to mention the Doomsday Machine's ultimately futile attempts against the cube. Such displays would have brought in quite a profit and Picard had to wonder who this man was who had handed over such merchandise.

_A good man_, Picard had supposed.

Seven didn't even blink at that piece of information; highly irrelevant is how she probably thought of it. Picard watched her carefully as he began on a different track.

"Could you tell me what happened when you were taken into the cube?" Picard saw a flinch, but it barely moved the implacable expression seemingly frozen on her narrow features.

"My connection had been severed to the Doomsday Machine when it was absorbed by the cube. I was taken into the hive mind, the Queen was there and successfully blocked my attempt to deploy the virus. I tried to reach out to Kathryn Janeway, to assist her in overtaking the Borg Queen's possession of her." Seven's eyes flickered away, as if in shame. Her voice had grown quiet, pained at her failure. The muscles in her throat convulsed to hold back the heat of tears that welled there.

"But you were successful, you deployed the virus." Picard had the facts in his hand. The Borg cube had imploded, the threat was gone.

"I. Failed." Seven's voice had lost its evenness its impassivity. Now it sounded broken, angry, and ashamed. "I was losing myself; I could not set myself free much less Kathryn from the hold of the Collective. In the end, she saved herself and us. Seeing my failure spurred her to new strength. Her personality, her free will, her individuality emerged just enough to puncture a hole into the firewall that had held the Borg protected. She then… pushed me out of the Collective mind, setting me free before the virus could take full effect."

"Seven, I realize that this has been… difficult, but on behalf of the Federation I must commend you on your bravery. Your sacrifice. If not for you Earth would have certainly been destroyed." Picard ended the recording as he stood to, he didn't know, perhaps shake hands with the woman.

"_My_ sacrifice." Seven's eyes narrowed into an accusing glare. "I sacrificed nothing. Kathryn Janeway saw to that when she forcefully ejected my mind from the Collective's. I am alive. She is not. I did not sacrifice, Captain."

"I know it's painful to lose someone close to you." Picard's voice softened even as the iciness in the small office increased with each passing moment those blue eyes bored into his own. "I won't claim to have known Admiral Janeway well. But I think I knew her enough to say that she would have been proud of you, Seven. Grateful. She might not have been able to prevail over the Borg without your presence."

"That is what would be referred to as 'cold comfort'." Seven raised her chin defiantly as her posture impossibly became more stiff and imposing. "I am finished with my report, Captain."

"Yes, of course." Before his dismissal, Captain Picard had one more issue that whether he wanted to or not had to be addressed. "After the Admiral's family is notified it will become a matter of public record, I thought you would like to notify the _Voyager_ crew…"

Something flashed in those blue eyes, it wasn't anger or shame, it looked like urgency and concern. "Do not allow Kathryn Janeway's death to become 'public record' until the _Voyager_ crew has been notified. We were her family, for seven years."

"I'll make it so." Picard knew a comforting smile wouldn't be welcomed so instead with a curt nod he dismissed her from the office.

After her brisk departure Picard immediately sent the report to Nechayev who had spent the last half an hour demanding answers as to what had just transpired. His report was dry, to the point, unemotional despite the fact that he knew Nechayev and Janeway had been friendly colleagues. Admiral Nechayev would not want anything less.

"Jean-Luc?" Beverly Crusher came around her own desk and perched on the end of it near her Captain, friend, and most recently, lover. She rested a gentle hand on his and was grateful to have their fingers quickly entwined.

Picard shook his head as though he was attempting to figure out a rather frustrating puzzle. His brow creased as he held Beverly's hand in both of his. "Even when all the possibilities seemed hopeless, I truly believed we could rescue her. That we would get her back. Even when Pluto was destroyed, the Starfleet Armada, I thought 'Admiral Janeway is still in there somewhere, she's retrievable' but Seven was right. Kathryn Janeway was lost to us… long before the _Enterprise_ was even aware the Borg cube was a threat."

"Yes… she was." Beverly had seen what the Queen was up close. She had, after all, almost been strangled to death by the monstrosity that was as grotesque as it was feminine. She knew the Borg Queen required only a third of the organic material of the incoming incarnate, Kathryn Janeway's body would have been deemed… irrelevant. Doctor Crusher had not consciously thought of that fact until this very moment and years of medical training and seeing the worst of injuries inflicted upon people kept her revulsion in the pit of her stomach.

"Despite our failure to save her, Beverly, she saved us." Picard looked upon the woman he had loved for more years than he cared to admit to and felt strengthened by her presence. Also more than he would admit to. "The Borg Queen put up a firewall, it prevented the Endgame virus from taking its course. Seven found Kathryn Janeway's mind within the Collective, assisted her in overriding the Queen's control, and she won. The Admiral not only destroyed the Borg threat but she saved Seven's life as well. She was… a remarkable woman."

Despite any ill-feelings that might have grown between the Admiral and Jean Luc after he had disobeyed direct orders, Beverly knew Jean-Luc had thought quite highly of Janeway. The astounding Captain who had brought _Voyager_ home when the small ship had been stranded seventy thousand light years away from Earth. And then she became an Admiral, who had been thought of as a miracle worker among the fleet a genius in both the sciences and diplomacy, a force to be reckoned with and who brought an infusion of fresh ideas and innovative thinking the brass had been missing desperately.

Beverly wondered then about Kathryn Janeway. Who was the woman? Who had she left behind? Family? A lover? Definitely the Admiral's former crew of the _Voyager_ would have to be notified soon. Then she thought of the young woman who had all but rushed out of Sickbay only moments ago. She wondered about Seven and the Admiral. And again she wished Deanna was onboard, she'd know what to do.

_Thank you, Seven._

Those three simple words were torment and ecstasy to the woman who walked briskly, rigidly down the hallway of a spaceship she desperately desired to depart from. After she had disregarded several worried looks from passing crewmembers, Seven finally and gratefully made it to her guest quarters.

Before the doors slid shut behind her, Seven had fallen against the wall. Her weight was too much for her to hold up any longer as her knees buckled and she slumped to the floor. Her slim arms wrapped around her pulled up knees as her head bowed. Her breathing came in short, uneven gasps and salty water streamed freely from her right eye to fall on her clasped hands.

_Sometimes, in order to feel alive, one has to take chances with one's safety._

Seven had thought Janeway wrong then and she still believed her to be now. If not for the desire to "feel alive" Kathryn would still exist.

And that fact, that inescapable reality of the ceasing of Kathryn Janeway's existence was what brought Seven of Nine, former Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, to weep for the very first time in her six years of existence after Captain Janeway had forced individuality upon her, had given her life, had restored her humanity by displaying her own.

Seven wept not only for herself, but for the others that had mattered so much to Kathryn Janeway and who in turn perhaps mattered more to them. Seven knew she needed to contact Chakotay, Harry, Tom, B'Elanna, the Doctor, Tuvok, Neelix and a hundred and thirty-six other individuals who had been _Voyager's_ crew for seven years. But she could not bring herself up from her supine position, not yet.

_Thank you, Seven._

Those words, those three simple words. They crippled Seven with their power. Their meaning. Both hidden and overt. She would not. Could not tell anyone everything those words had meant and continued to mean to Seven of Nine, former Borg drone, now a grieving woman who had to tell her family that they had lost their cornerstone, their strength, their center. The crew of _Voyager_, after they had transverse an unknown Quadrant and had prevailed over impossible odds and deadly enemies, had arrived home only to have lost their Captain.

Seven didn't know how long she had been seated against the wall of her guest quarters onboard the _Enterprise-E_, nor did she particularly care. She had disregarded her internal chronometer as irrelevant hours ago. She did wonder what had aroused her from her contemplation of the woman who had been Seven's unwavering guide to humanity.

She realized with little reaction that it had been the chime of the door and continued to be a distraction from her thoughts. Annoyed by the interruption but cognizant that this individual was not going to leave her in peace, Seven stood gracefully from the floor. She thought she cared little about aesthetics, but she found herself wiping away tears that had dried to her cheeks and smoothing down the wrinkles that had formed in the fabric of her uniform.

"Computer, who is at the door?" Seven listened for the soft feminine voice to reply as she pulled her hair back into its austere bun which completed her regaining of composure.

"Captain Picard."

"Enter." Seven stood at attention, though she crossed her arms over her chest as she regarded the man who had commanded a ship called _Enterprise_ for over twenty years. She had thought him a capable Captain and a man of presence, but he lacked the fiery passion and the barely contained energy her former Captain had possessed and found him somewhat wanting. Seven could imagine the self-effacing half-grin her former Captain would possess at such a comparison and she could feel the pain in her chest increase.

"Seven, I wanted to inform you that Admirals Nechayev and Paris contacted me a few moments ago. They've just departed from Indiana and are on route here." Picard wondered what the woman had done for the last six hours as the _Enterprise_ maintained its orbit over Earth. The lights to the quarters hadn't been activated and the state of the rumpled uniform, something so uncharacteristic of the young woman, would clearly indicate that whatever it had been it was… no business of his. He cleared his throat thinking a response would be forthcoming.

Gretchen Janeway. Phoebe. Seven could picture both women perfectly in her mind. She had first met the pair at the more family oriented and casual homecoming party that had preceded the more formal and uncomfortable Starfleet sponsored one. It would not have been necessary of the Captain then to have introduced them to Seven, the similarities between the three women would have been indication enough that they shared a familial biological makeup. She remembered how their voices had also indicated that they shared more traits than just similarities in appearance.

"Mom, Phoebe, I'd like you to meet Seven, she was my Astrometrics officer and is a close friend." The Captain had smiled her unique and bright smile then as she gestured to Seven, who had attempted with all her power to remain composed in front of her Captain's mother and sister.

If the two women had been uncomfortable with Seven's Borg history they hadn't shown it in the least as both took turns shaking her hand until the oldest of the Janeway women embraced Seven heartily before she released her to the youngest one's warm embrace. Seven had felt something that she hadn't felt from many others… acceptance. And what had Seven given them in return…

"Understood." Seven wondered idly why Captain Picard was not leaving. What was there more to say? Then she remembered. _Voyager_. "I must contact the _U.S.S. Titan_ and _Voyager_. Deep Space Nine. The Jupiter Station. Starfleet Academy. I do not know where many of the former _Voyager_ crewmembers now reside."

"I'll take care of that, Seven." Picard felt a pain of sympathy as he looked upon the woman whose composure was unwavering, but he could see the streaks of tears that had tracked across her cheeks. Upon their first meeting, he had thought her brusque, bordering on rude, impatient, arrogant and cold. But now he could see past the aloof posturing. Here was a woman who had six years of experience as an individual and whose mentor had just died. This was a woman with a heart broken. "If you'd like to come to the conference room, we'll send out communiqués there."

Picard almost offered to send out the communiqués himself, but he didn't think he had the right. The people onboard _Voyager_ had put aside extreme differences, the line between Starfleet and Maquis had to be dissolved so that they could survive, but not only that they had become a community onboard that vessel, a family, he couldn't be the one to tell them… they had lost one of their own.

CHAPTER 3

_U.S.S. Titan_

"What's our ETA?" Captain William T. Riker's crystal blue eyes watched the field of stars streak by via the large view screen which indicated their vessel, the _Titan_, was moving at warp speed. Warp eight point two to be exact. The subspace message that had simply read: _The Borg are coming! The Borg are coming! _had brought their exploration of the Gum Nebula to a quick end. Contact with Starfleet Command had been impossible and all Riker had to rely on was his own instinct that this was not a joke.

_They should have destroyed that damned cube when they had had the chance_, his thoughts were decidedly testy though an edge of fear was present as well.

"Thirteen hours seven minutes twenty-two seconds." The calm, impassive voice of his Tactical Officer didn't help his anxiousness over the situation. He wanted to be there. On the frontlines.

What also worried Riker was that his communiqués to the Admiral haven't yet been returned. He had attempted to contact Janeway the moment the alert rang out from an unknown vessel with an impressive communications array. It had carried to the Beta Quadrant and thus to the _Titan_. It was uncharacteristic of the Admiral not to return his contact and then the fact that the Starfleet Brass were probably locked away if indeed the Borg were heading towards Earth hadn't helped to quell his anxiety that Earth was simply no longer there. Though thoughts such as those were not ones he entertained, especially not on the bridge of his ship.

"Wish they'd make these ships a little faster, huh, Captain." Commander Christine Vale's voice held enough shakiness that Riker knew the smile on his first officer's lips was forced at best.

"You know I heard that if they did we'd all be big lizards right now." Riker knew the tension on the Bridge was thick, the ship just couldn't go any faster, and he being the person that he was needed to cut through it. "Isn't that right, Mr. Tuvok?"

If a Vulcan could flinch with embarrassment, Riker imagined that his Tactical Officer would be doing it. Instead, a raised angled eyebrow was his only sign of perhaps discomfort. Riker had to give it to _Voyager_ and her Captain; they had one hell of a crazy ride.

"Indeed." Tuvok could detect what his Captain was attempting and was not averse to such action, though he thought Captain Riker could use a bit more discretion especially when it involved the mating of a Starship Captain and a helmsman despite their forms.

"That's all you're giving us? 'Indeed'." Deanna smiled brightly at the Vulcan, who to her understanding, had a wicked albeit dry sense of humor. She suspected that he would need it being close friends with the intensely passionate, emotionally charged woman that was Kathryn Janeway. She knew from talks with Will that the Admiral had a rather prickly sense of humor.

"Yeah, come on, Commander, you've got to have tons of _Voyager_ adventure stories." Now Vale's voice was its usual lightness as she twisted in her chair to watch, well no emotions play on the man's features, but she thought she could see an eyebrow rise.

"In our second year in the Delta Quadrant, _Voyager_ encountered several large space dwelling organisms in the midst of reproducing. The ship was pulled into the gravitational field these entities had created. After several unsuccessful attempts to break out of the field mainly due to not wanting to harm the creatures, _Voyager_ became sexually appealing to a rather large specimen and only our imitation of a submissive posturing allowed _Voyager_ to escape unharmed." Tuvok hadn't looked up from his console at any point of the succinct story, especially the end, so he missed the wide eyes and the mouths agape.

"You're pulling our leg, Commander!" Deanna chuckled as she shook her head in disbelief.

"I do not… 'pull legs', Counselor." Tuvok did raise his eyes then and sincerity was the only thing that emanated from them. "It is in the ship's logs."

Seven years worth of ship's logs, especially logs kept so diligently was a lot to read, so Riker had admittedly skimmed over some of the less… exciting episodes. He still wondered how big these Hirogen really were.

Riker cleared his throat as he shifted slightly in his chair. "Well, now that we all have that mental image, I suggest we…"

Riker's suggestion was not to be heard today for there was a subspace transmission from the _Enterprise-E_. The roar of cheers from everyone, except Tuvok who merely became less tense looking, followed the announcement that the _Enterprise-E_ was presently orbiting Earth and that the Borg cube had been destroyed once and for all. The threat neutralized. Riker had to wonder if that would play favorably for Picard in his possible court martial trial. Another thing he had wanted to talk to the Admiral about despite the inappropriateness to do so. Another line, farther down stopped Riker cold.

_Urgent Communiqué: Regarding Admiral Kathryn Janeway for Captain Riker, Commander Tuvok, and Commander Troi._

"Commander Tuvok," his voice was even, Riker knew it was but he could feel his wife's dark eyes look worriedly at his now standing form. "Counselor, you're with me. Vale you have the Conn. Continue present heading."

Riker had led the way not to his ready room but the conference room, where he turned to regard the two commanders who had entered after him. "There's another communiqué from the _Enterprise_. It's regarding Admiral Janeway. Just for the three of us."

There was something quick, almost too brief for Deanna to pick up with her empathic abilities but she knew what it had been. Tuvok was suddenly deeply concerned. And so was Will. And if truth be told, so was she. If it wasn't something serious it would have been on the subspace telegram.

Riker punched in the appropriate code for the two way communiqué and waited as the large view screen that adorned the far wall from the doorway shifted from the Starfleet symbol to the image of two of the most self-contained individuals he had ever met looking a little worse for wear. The small hairs on the back of his neck began to rise as he carelessly seated himself in the nearest chair. He could feel Deanna's comforting presence right beside him and he caught Tuvok taking a seat across the table.

"What's happened?" Riker wasn't one for preliminaries and he could tell social pleasantries were the least of these two individuals' concerns. He knew Captain Picard well enough to know that this was not news to be taken lightly. Seven, for her part, only looked at Tuvok with an unidentifiable expression on her narrow features.

"This is all classified by Starfleet command under the orders of Admirals Nechayev, Jellico, and Paris, but they had deemed it permissible for the once senior staff of the _Voyager_ to be aware of what has happened to their former Captain." Picard seemed to deflate after the necessary disclaimer had been told as he allowed for Seven to speak for them both.

"The Borg cube thought to be inactive was being studied by a group of scientists led by Admiral Janeway. She was… assimilated." Seven ignored the gasps of surprise, of horror, she maintained her gaze with the Commander whose jaw muscle had twitched at the words. She suspected he already knew what she was going to say next. "She, the Collective transformed her into their new queen. I was given the Endgame virus and also utilized the Doomsday Machine in an attempt to destroy the cube." Again she ignored the gasps from the two emotional beings in the room. "The Doomsday Machine proved unsuccessful and was absorbed into the cube, assimilated, as was I. My… consciousness sought out that of the Admiral's. She… I would not have been successful in deploying the virus if not for her. She overcame the Borg Queen's control and the virus was absorbed. The cube imploded. Admiral Janeway was… irretrievable."

"My god." Will was the first to speak. His voice hushed, reverent as he tried to understand what he had just been told. The unconquerable Kathryn Janeway was… gone. Dead. This didn't seem possible. It didn't seem even conceivable that this woman was no longer with them. He suddenly saw the fatigued expressions and wondered how many people they had called and how many more were left, he stood then. "I… thank you for the information. And I am truly sorry. She was… an extraordinary woman. We'll be to Earth in thirteen hours, I think we'd like to rendezvous with the _Enterprise_ then."

"Of course, Captain." Picard didn't let the smile that usually played on his lips when he referred to his former number one as his present title come forth. He merely nodded. "We're in station keeping for the time being. _Enterprise_ out."

"Commander? Tuvok?" Deanna looked to the Vulcan who maintained his seat and his forward gaze. A muscle in his jaw was the only indication that he had just been told his oldest friend had been killed. "I'm so very sorry, Tuvok."

Tuvok stood then; his movements were jerkier than they had ever seen. And when he turned to acknowledge them his expression was stony though a flash of something resembling anger darkened his eyes. "Permission to go to my quarters, Captain, T'Pel should be made aware of what has happened."

"Of course. Dismissed." Riker waited until the doors had slid shut before he fell back into his chair.

Deanna sat in the chair she had just recently vacated and turned her husband towards her. Moisture had already gathered, but was held captive in his pale blue eyes. And she could feel the tears fall from her own eyes at the incredible pain they had both just witnessed from a man who was supposedly without emotion.

T'Pel had sensed a turbulent storm within her husband long before he entered their living quarters. Most beings thought of Vulcans as emotionless, this was not precisely the case. The history of the Vulcan culture would indicate a society fraught with powerful emotions; their Pon Farr was a case in point. But over the centuries they as a people had learned to suppress to a point where they really didn't have "feelings" so to speak, though the loss of a loved one was felt and T'Pel knew that was what caused the pain that raged within Tuvok.

"Kathryn Janeway is dead." The words had been spoken plainly, without inflection, and if an emotional being had been present they would have thought the words had been spoken coldly. T'Pel knew this was not the case. The crease in her husband's brow and the clenching of his jaw muscles indicated to her that his emotions were kept at bay only because he was an experienced practitioner of the Vulcan ways.

Kathryn Janeway, a woman T'Pel had known for more than twenty years, had been a close family friend perhaps her husband's closest. It had been an oddity for T'Pel to take to such an emotional being so readily. But there had been no doubt that she had the moment she had been introduced to the human woman during the christening of the _U.S.S. Billings_. T'Pel had found herself intrigued. Even more interesting was that she knew her husband had shared her intrigue despite his admonishments regarding proper tactical protocols or lack thereof. An impassioned woman Captain Janeway had definitely been, but there had been a control there as well, as if the woman debated which of her emotions she was to allow release and then permitted it on her own terms to do so. Calculated without being disingenuous. Impressive and curious.

"She will be missed." The words from T'Pel were no more than the facts, plainly stated, and as heartfelt as their control would allow. "Asil should be contacted."

Their youngest child and only daughter, Asil was what humans referred to as a goddaughter to Kathryn Janeway who had been present for many of Asil's accomplishments including her kohlinahr.

"Indeed." Tuvok moved to the workstation and rested his hands on top of the desk for a few moments, control regained as he set up the communiqué protocols necessary to contact his daughter who was presently stationed on Deep Space Nine. He felt his wife's presence next to him as she too prepared to tell their daughter of the passing of Kathryn Janeway. Relaxed breaths and the beeping of acceptance were the only sounds in the sparse living quarters.

The impassive visage of their daughter clad in a Starfleet uniform filled the void of the screen. "Father. Mother. What has happened?"

Tuvok contained his unease as he addressed the woman before him. "The Borg cube that imploded above Earth contained Admiral Janeway."

No gasp of surprise, shock, dismay was allowed to pass between Asil's lips, though her posture tensed, her chin tilted up and the angled eyebrows characteristic of their people rose. "I… see."

"Her memorial service will no doubt take place soon." Tuvok watched with pride as his youngest maintained her impassive expression. "If you are able?"

"I will be able." Ensign Asil took her duties as a security officer onboard the space station quite seriously, but she also knew what her duty was to her family. "Admiral Janeway was an impressive individual, she will be missed."

"Indeed." With a nod the screen went to the "end transmission" screen, which Tuvok looked at for long moments before he tapped the console to record a log he had wanted never to have to enter.

"Commander Tuvok, Personal log, Stardate 57478.2, Due to an implosion and defeat of a Borg cube in Sector Zero Zero one, I must regretfully note that we have lost Kathryn Janeway. Though I am Vulcan I am not immune to the effect of that loss. I would like the record to show that I have lost a valued friend, one whom I can never replace."

CHAPTER 4

_Enterprise-E_

"Upon consideration, my best judgment on this matter is that court-martial proceedings not be pursued at this time, but instead that Captain Picard…"—there was a long pause where her expression turned from a contemplative impassivity to a slow grin that emanated warmth and a bit of mischief so characteristic of the woman displayed on the flat screen—"… instead suggest that a commendation for original thinking be entered into his file. You are, of course, free to ignore this recommendation and proceed as you see fit. Janeway out."

The image of the auburn haired woman vanished from the screen as an exhalation of breath expelled from the man that she had just pardoned, her last official instruction and the last visual entry she would ever make. Days before, when he had been informed by Admiral Jellico that Admiral Janeway had "given him a free pass" for disobeying the latter's official order, for the _Enterprise-E_ to not engage the Borg until Seven of Nine could assist them against the cube, he had been surprised but too engaged with Admiral Jellico's insistence that Seven be brought back to Earth to fully appreciate what Janeway had done. He had known her well enough to sense that she was not a person to forgive and forget easily. Known to hold a grudge was something Picard had heard about the woman and considering that Worf had been intimidated at the prospect of speaking to the Admiral, Picard had the very real sense that to be on this particular Admiral's bad side was an unfortunate place to be.

But it would seem that the Admiral had had a change of heart and had shown him, what many would say especially at Command, extreme leniency. Admiral Janeway's last recommendation would not go ignored and with that Picard still had the _Enterprise_, his command, and the pardon of his crew. He felt humbled, and infinitely grateful.

"Admiral Janeway's commendation has been noted in your official record as well as her pardon." Nechayev's ice cold gaze bore into Picard's. The two had not always seen eye to eye and it was indicative in the way the Admiral seemed to disagree with what she herself had enabled. "If it had been up to me you'd have trouble getting a garbage scow. I expect you to take Kate's leniency as a second chance. I suggest you not waste it."

"I will endeavor not to, Admiral." The forgotten tea was now cold and it took some effort for him to swallow the liquid.

In the hour that Admirals Paris and Nechayev had been onboard Picard had been forced to endure the rather pointed looks of the latter's and the questioning of why the Endgame virus had been employed at this time instead of when a preemptive strike against the Borg would have meant the survival of many officers, including Kathryn Janeway's. The accusation had made Picard bristle and it took him quite a few moments to regain his calm.

"Captain Picard, I see Annika Hansen has requested a shuttle?" Admiral Paris' narrowed blue eyes fixed upon Picard.

"She has and I approved the requisition." Picard was aware that Admiral Paris and Kathryn Janeway had shared a long history with one another. Their relationship had begun at the academy when Paris acted as advisor to the young cadet and then later when Janeway was a science officer on the _Al-Batani_ during the Arias Expedition where the two had been captured by the Cardassians. Picard had no desire to think about what the pair had endured in the hands of a Gul since he knew firsthand what lengths the Cardassians would go to for information. He also knew Paris had been the head of Project: Voyager and he suspected Admiral Paris' unceasing attempts to get _Voyager_ home had not been solely due to the fact that his son had been onboard. He wondered at the man's composure at having lost a woman whom Picard suspected had been like a daughter to the Admiral.

"The _Voyager_ is at Utopia Planitia, Seven wished to tell the crew in person…" Picard said no more, the Admiral before him nodded in understanding. A large portion of the present crew of _Voyager_ had been onboard when Admiral Janeway had captained the ship through the Delta Quadrant.

"You've also requested that news of Admiral Janeway's death not be acknowledged publicly until every single member of the _Voyager's_ past crew has been notified. It is a request I will permit. Have you located the crew?" The last time Paris had seen the Delta Quadrant _Voyager_ crew together in one place had been over a year ago at the one year anniversary of the ship's trumphant return. He regretted that the event that would bring the gallant crew together again was so unfortunate.

"The _Titan_ and her crew have been notified." Picard could still see the disbelief that had been on his former crewmembers' faces and regretted that Riker would be required to shoulder the responsibility of telling his crew of the Admiral's death. "Once I get confirmation from Seven I will send out communiqués to Deep Space Nine, to the McKinley Station, various starships, and several colonies throughout the sector."

The _Voyager's_ previous crew was nothing if not widespread throughout the quadrant. The then Captain Janeway had created quite capable officers, from the reformed Maquis to crewmembers who had just graduated from the academy. Every one of them were now valuable assets to Starfleet who had lost many people to the war.

"Understood. Captain?" Alynna Nechayev's tone was even, but there was a hint of something underneath, a warning perhaps. "Seven of Nine is under your purview. Her reaction to the Admiral's death has raised some questions regarding security."

Picard instantly regretted the inclusion in his report of Seven's assault on Captain Grim Vargo. He knew the young woman hadn't been cognizant of her actions, overcome by grief. The heat of anger and defensiveness for the young woman began to rise strongly within the usually stoic Captain. "Seven isn't a danger to anyone. She's a woman who has just lost a close personal friend. Her strongest link to her humanity. I'd say she is reacting well within her rights. As a human being in pain."

"That may well be the case, but if she becomes a danger to those around her again I expect you to contain her, is that understood?" Despite Kate's repeated entreaties to Nechayev to see Seven as an ally and not as a drone, Alynna still had a hard time buying it. "She has enough Borg in her to pose a threat."

"And enough humanity not to." Picard tired of Nechayev's paranoia. Though he understood it. He had been responsible as Locutus for the death of the Admiral's husband at Wolf 359 and he suspected that the Admiral had not yet forgiven him for that.

"So you say. Just keep an eye on her. That's an order." Nechayev brought the PADD and data strips that had been retrieved from the Captain whom Seven had assaulted in front of her to accentuate her next point. "And remind her that the events surrounding Admiral Janeway's death are classified. The general public will know that she died in the Borg attack against Earth. Nothing more."

"Understood, Admiral." Picard regarded the two and wondered somewhat of their motives until it suddenly came to him. "No one wants her remembered as the monstrosity she had been forced against her will to become."

"Captain Picard, until Seven entered the Collective mind and found Kathryn Janeway's… essence, was there any way for Kate to have broken through before that connection had been made?" It was an unwavering question but one that took effort for Nechayev to speak aloud.

Picard didn't hesitate with his answer. "No. It would have been impossible. The Admiral was a remarkably strong willed individual but even she would not have been able to override the Queen's control. She would have been made to watch the destruction of her world with no more action capable to her than a mental scream of protest. And I imagine the Queen would have merely ignored it or relished in it. But no, Admiral, Kathryn Janeway was lost to us the moment she was assimilated and only Seven's mental strength and connection to the woman allowed for her to overcome what she had been transformed into and cause the Borg Queen's defeat."

Not exactly comforted by the words, but nodding in acceptance nonetheless Nechayev looked evenly at Captain Picard for a few more moments before she exited the ready room. She had needed to hear those words, because the Borg Queen had been frighteningly reminiscent of her friend that she had wondered if they could have reached her… somehow. Then she remembered someone had, the accursed Borg drone. Seven.

CHAPTER 5

_U.S.S. Voyager_

Captain Chakotay regarded the man before him with what he hoped were unemotional eyes that Tuvok would be proud of. The Trill doctor for his part looked nervous; his light blue eyes were locked onto the slips of smooth paper in his hands.

A clattering of multicolored outdated isolinear chips preceded the doctor's proclamation of raising the already pricey bet. A smile attempted to play on his lips but he maintained his practiced look of unease.

"I think we're being hustled, Captain." Tom Paris looked at his own cards and his expression of unease was real. He didn't have a thing. Though he suspected the others knew this fact his pride wouldn't allow him to be forced out of the game just yet. He threw in the appropriate number of chips.

Deep dimples creased the Captain's cheeks as he nodded his head in agreement. He knew all too well that his Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Jarem Kaz, was an accomplished poker player. Having had two previous lifetimes with the game had given the man all the experience he needed to best the most seasoned of _Voyager's_ crew. Including its previous Captain, who had lost to the doctor with a soft "damn" to accompany her reluctant acceptance of defeat when _Voyager_ had returned from their mission to Loran II almost two years ago. He could still picture her look of irritation when Jarem had swept the mound of isolinear chips into his arms with a low chuckle, Chakotay's smile deepened even more.

"I'm out." Lieutenant Harry Kim sighed heavily as he placed his cards on the table. Poker, he decided, just was not his game. He was never a very good liar. Surprisingly enough the man seated next to him was.

Lieutenant Vorik, _Voyager's_ Chief Engineer, had such a look of impassivity that he could bluff his way past the most unfortunate hand one could be dealt with ease. As he was doing at the moment. More chips were thrown onto the ever accumulating pile.

"This is absolutely the worst game ever!" Lyssa Campbell threw her cards on table with frustration as she settled against her seat, arms crossed. "I suggest Parrises squares but 'no, why don't we play poker, a game of wits'. A game of crappy luck is more like it."

_Voyager's_ Ops Officer was without a doubt the single worst poker player Chakotay had ever had the opportunity to play with. The snorts of disgust and laughs of delight were all genuine. Apparently bluffing was a concept foreign to the young woman.

"It's a game of subterfuge, of maintaining calm, controlling oneself. Every person on the road to command should be an accomplished player. Keeps you sharp. Helps you to contain your emotions. Or at least keep them from showing." Sometimes Chakotay wondered if he sounded as tutorial as he thought. But he wanted each and every one of them to become the best officers they could be and if he sounded like a school teacher while doing it, so be it.

"_Really_." A warm chuckle accompanied the rather skeptical tone as Jarem Kaz regarded his Captain with humor showing strongly in his ever friendly blue eyes. "I seem to recall a certain Admiral who wasn't too good at hiding her disappointment… and disbelief at losing to a mere commander."

"What can I say? Admiral Janeway doesn't like to lose." Chakotay added his own warm chuckle as he thought of the woman in question. He was aware that some people who didn't know her the way he did thought of Admiral Janeway as somewhat strident, aloof, but he knew her like no other. She was emotionally charged and one thing that got her going like nothing else was to lose. "She does it so rarely that I'm sure she was caught completely off guard. You have the unique distinction of finding a game that she doesn't always win at."

"Lucky me." Jarem wasn't quite sure if such a distinction was particularly good since he knew first hand that the Admiral would challenge him to a game that she was sure to win. Pool. Velocity. Tennis. And the list went on. Though he had to admit he found her lack of modesty when winning endearing. Charming even. Though those were thoughts he kept to himself. As he saw the naked love that shone in Chakotay's dark eyes upon merely thinking about the Admiral, Jarem knew why he did.

Chakotay was anxious to get the overhaul completed on his ship so that he could take it back to Earth. Now that the Borg threat had been eliminated he had deemed it time for the _Voyager_ crew to have a much needed rest period. He himself was looking forward to spending time with a few close friends. One in particular. Again the image of a half-grin warmed Chakotay. He wondered if perhaps the Admiral would be up for a moonlit sail on Lake George.

"Bridge to the Captain." Lieutenant Ayala's deep voice stopped any of the little conversations that had been going on in the Mess Hall and Chakotay's silent musings over appropriate wine for a late night sail.

"Chakotay here, go ahead."

"Sir, I have a request from Seven of Nine to be beamed aboard. She has also requested to speak with the senior staff."

"Seven?" Chakotay hadn't seen the woman for over a year, not since the one year anniversary and he wondered why she had come to _Voyager_ without a subspace communiqué to alert them of her arrival. "Of course, Lieutenant, welcome her onboard."

Seven had, for about three weeks, been a woman Chakotay had attempted to form a romantic relationship with, but it had ultimately proved unsuccessful. Upon their arrival on Earth, Seven had broken off the relationship. He had been hurt then, but he understood, and if truth be told a bit relieved. She was not the person he saw in his future.

With the card game already forgotten, Chakotay led most of the members of his senior staff out of the sliding doors of the Mess Hall.

"I wonder what's up." Tom wondered if it had something to do with the Borg again. He wished that the damned Collective would finally be done away with once and for all. No other race he had ever come across caused more havoc and death than they and he hated them for it.

"Must be important. Seven isn't really one to just drop by for a chat." An unsettling in his stomach was the start of worry that blossomed in Harry Kim. Whatever made Seven come to _Voyager_ didn't bode well.

The turbolift doors opened onto the bridge where Seven of Nine was already present. Her customary pose hinted at nothing. Nor did her expressionless appearance.

"I must speak with the senior staff at once." Seven didn't wait for the greetings that had been stopped by her brusque tone as she led the way swiftly to the conference room.

"Nice to see you too, Seven." Tom's voice was soft and sarcastic as he too followed the woman that had all but made orders to them all.

The silver starship caught in metal pylons loomed high above Seven's small shuttlecraft and she attempted to not allow the sight of Kathryn Janeway's beloved vessel to adversely affect her emotional calm, as precarious as it was. She powered down the impulse engines and pressed the appropriate controls to hail the vessel that had been her home for four of the most important years of her life. Mostly due to the woman who had Captained it diligently and effectively for seven arduous years.

"Seven of Nine to _Voyager_." How many times has she said those words and received a warm, throaty response.

"Lieutenant Ayala here, what can I do for you, Seven?"

"I request to be beamed to the bridge. I must speak to _Voyager's_ senior staff immediately."

"Hold position. I need to contact the Captain."

"Understood." Seven let a soft exhalation of breath to expel from her lips. She loathed waiting. Especially in this instance.

"_Voyager_ to Seven."

"Proceed." Seven had forgotten how inefficient Starfleet protocol was.

"Standby for transport."

The shimmering of the transporter beam comforted her. Finally, the familiar vision of the _Voyager_ Bridge appeared before her. The tall, dark haired man in command red who she knew as an extremely quiet man greeted her with a nod of his head. She heard the turbolift doors slide open and the present senior staff of the _U.S.S. Voyager_ exited. She could tell by their curious looks that they were ill-prepared for what she had to say.

"I must speak with the senior staff at once."

Once the staff had all seated themselves they turned their undivided attention to the woman who had called this meeting of sorts.

Seven looked upon the people who awaited her words. She knew what she had to say but hesitated in her wording. Bluntness was not what this situation required. Compassion and honesty, emotions that she had always attempted to control and conceal, she would give it all to these people. They deserved no less.

"I am… uncertain how to proceed. I dedicated the time it took to arrive here from the _Enterprise-E_ to compile my thoughts, to order my words, but it would seem a… an unsuccessful endeavor." Seven's voice grew quiet, uneven. It startled those around her to see her human eye expel tears. Never had they ever seen the woman this emotional, enough to cry in the presence of others which they had never known her to do. This was the exact moment they grew concerned, in fact a good many of them were terrified.

"What is it, Seven?" Chakotay's voice held comfort, encouragement, even as a coldness gripped his heart, painfully.

"As you are all aware Earth almost fell at the power of the Borg cube that had been deemed inoperative after it reactivated and targeted Earth. What you do not know is why it reactivated and how. Four days ago, Admiral Janeway and a group of scientists boarded the thought to be dead cube in order to study it. The fate of the scientists is still not known, but what we do know is that once they were onboard the cube activated and… assimilated Admiral Janeway." Seven's voice cracked then. The glistening tears on her cheek were left unnoticed by her as she tried to regain her voice as sounds of horrified shock filled the room.

"My god." It sounded like a prayer and perhaps it had been. Chakotay's hands gripped the arms of his chair as the coldness that had started in his chest spread quickly throughout his body leaving him paralyzed with fear.

"But… the Admiral's okay right? I mean, the Borg are gone. Earth's safe. She's fine, right, Seven?" Harry Kim's voice would brook for no argument, his caramel colored boyish features reddened as he stood abruptly from the table. The hand of his best friend that restrained his movements was disregarded as he struggled out of the grasp.

"Harry." Tom's voice brought his friend's attention to him and what Harry saw made him retake his seat. Tom Paris' bright blue eyes shimmered with tears that were barely kept contained as he shook his head uncertainly.

"Seven, please, continue." Jarem Kaz held one of Lyssa Campbell's hands with an almost painfully strong grip as he nodded in encouragement.

"The Admiral was… transformed. The Borg needed their queen and so they made one." Now Seven's voice shook not only from despair but from rage, fury shot through her thin form as she thought of what violations the Borg had inflicted upon a woman who had been so dear to her. "The Borg Queen had a primary demand, she wanted for Locutus and me to rejoin the Collective. Utilizing her desire a plan was devised, I was injected by a virus created to destroy the Borg. Once I was assimilated into the Collective I was to deploy the virus. But I failed. The Queen created a firewall against the virus. I tried to find a way past it but it was ineffective. I could not break down the firewall. But Kathryn Janeway could. And did. She overcame the Borg Queen's control and allowed the virus to penetrate the Collective."

A mixture of pride and impossible sadness shone in Seven's eyes as she prepared herself for the words that needed to be said, but that she did not want to be the one to speak them. To tell this group of people of the loss that they would all have to acknowledge as fact.

_Thank you, Seven._

"At twenty-two thirty-one hours, the Borg cube imploded. We have… lost Kathryn Janeway." Seven cast her eyes to the floor as she had no more words to say nor would the tightness in her throat allow her to.

"NO!" The angry, booming sound of Chakotay's voice broke through the silent disbelief that had filled the room. "No! You've got to be wrong! There has to be a mistake! She can't die! She's Kathryn Janeway, damn it! She can't be dead!"

"I am sorry." And Seven was. The man before her who was forever calm, contained now shook with fury as he pointed his finger accusingly at her.

"You're sorry?" Chakotay tossed the chair away from him as he stalked angrily toward the woman. "Why, Seven? Why didn't you save her? Was she suddenly irrelevant?"

He spat the words out, disgust laced within as he looked at her optical implant. Never before had he ever wanted to hurt anyone in his life how he wanted to hurt the woman before him. He pictured ripping that piece of technology from the woman's face and crushing it beneath his foot. He disregarded the voices of his crew which protested his words and behavior.

"She was not irrelevant. I could not retrieve her. Her physical body had been destroyed long before her consciousness." Seven had not wanted to release that bit of knowledge but she wasn't thinking clearly at the moment. She had become quite incensed at the accusation that she had allowed Kathryn Janeway to die. Seven knew she would have given her life readily if it would have saved the Admiral.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lyssa Campbell hadn't meant the question to be released but she had no power over her own words. She was beginning to feel sick to her stomach.

The question was not answered because the woman who had the query posed to her was now laid out on the deck; blood flowed from a large cut to her bottom lip. She had welcomed the pain from the blow as it would take her mind off the impossible pain that was not produced by a physical stimulus. The proceeding blows, however she did prevent.

"Chakotay, stop!" Jarem Kaz used all the strength he had to keep the man from pummeling the fallen woman. He was grateful that Vorik had also deemed it logical to assist in the restraint. "Stop! Damn it, you've got to stop!"

"Why, Seven, why?" Chakotay felt himself being restrained by his CMO and his Chief Engineer, but he didn't care as he fought against their strength. He needed an answer. Something to explain why, how this could happen. Why the universe had been so cruel as to take this woman away from them, from him. "Why didn't you save her?"

"I… did not have the ability to do so." Seven brushed blood off onto the back of her hand as she pushed herself into a seated position against the conference room wall. "If there had been a way, I would have succeeded. The Borg Queen was too powerful for me to overcome. She was too powerful for the Admiral to overcome for more than a few seconds. Admiral Janeway used that time to save us, by sacrificing herself. I could do nothing to prevent it even if she would have allowed for me to do so. And I—even though a part of me did want that to be a possibility, she had made her decision. I could do nothing."

"God." It came out as a strangled cry as Chakotay collapsed into the hold of his crewmates. He didn't even notice as they led him to his chair. His hands went to his face as the anger he had felt so hotly was engulfed by anguish, an overwhelming sorrow, and the knowledge that his heart would never be the same, that he would never be the same.

"Seven?" After gaining the ability to move again, Tom Paris helped Seven from the carpeted floor. The tears he had tried so desperately to contain now flowed unchecked down his face as he looked at the deep cut in her lip. "Are you okay?"

"No." Seven wiped the blood from her hand onto her pant leg without much care. "I do not believe I am."

"Come on, let's get you to a chair." Tom grasped the woman close to him as he made his way to the conference room table. The seat he had just vacated was quickly filled by a shaking Seven of Nine.

"Is it true, Seven, is she… is she really… dead?" Harry had used all of his will power not to breakdown, to allow the bile to rise higher into his throat, his voice had been soft, utterly lost.

"Yes." Seven avoided Chakotay's pointed glare as she addressed Harry. "I am sorry, Harry."

"But maybe the Borg transported her or protected her from the explosion somehow." Harry's voice was more shrill and desperate sounding than he would have liked but he needed to pose the possibility that the Admiral wasn't dead. Because it just seemed such an impossibility for it to be otherwise. "She could still be alive! Trapped by the Borg. We could—"

"Harry!" Tom had seen his friend like this only once before, during their sixth year in the Delta Quadrant they had been part of an away team that had been given the memories of soldiers unintentionally involved in a massacre. Harry had had the same frantic jerky movements and dazed expression in his eyes then as he did now. And that worried Tom more than he cared to think about or deal with. He had enough on his mind as is.

Harry Kim looked at his best friend as if horribly betrayed. "Don't you want to help the Admiral? She could still be out there! We have to do something!"

Harry looked with pleading eyes at the assembled. Their attentions were on themselves, their own sorrow, even when his voice rose higher as he slammed his fist against the table. "DAMN IT, LISTEN TO ME!"

The anger, the frustration, the despair grew within Harry until he felt an almost overwhelming urge to break something or to punch someone.

"Go ahead, Harry, I'll give you a free one." Tom held his friend's quaking shoulders with strong hands. "But the next swing you take, I'm hitting back."

Tom followed his friend to the deck as Harry's legs buckled under the strain of his pain and enormous sense of loss.

"She's gone, Harry. She's gone. She's gone. She's gone. She's gone." Tom's softly spoken mantra was not only for Harry but for himself as well.

The passing on of the Admiral's death had been the regrettable responsibility of Seven but the acceptance of her being gone would come only from themselves. How long that would take would be up to each of them.

"Damn." Tom's oath was the one worded sudden remembrance that he had to tell… "B'Elanna."

"I'm sorry, Seven."

Doctor Jarem Kaz brought the dermal regenerator offline before he placed it on a nearby tray. His kind blue eyes never wavered from the woman seated dejectedly before him.

"Your apology is illogical, Doctor, you were not the one who struck me." Seven unconsciously put her fingers to the spot that had just been healed. The wound would have been closed quickly by her nanoprobes, but she had deferred to the CMO's wishes that she follow him to sickbay. She had suspected it was to separate her and Captain Chakotay so she had agreed readily. The pointed looks of rage and disgust that Chakotay had directed towards her had not assisted her in her own emotional control.

"I'm still sorry and the Captain would be too if he was in any other state of mind." He brought a chair in front of the biobed and seated himself with a heavy sigh. "And I'm also sorry… about Admiral Janeway. I… liked her a lot, admired her, I don't believe in all my years of living I've met her equal. She was truly amazing."

Something flashed across Seven's gaze then as if she was attempting to discern something hidden in his words. Her icy blue eyes narrowed as she looked upon the Trill. "Were you in love with her, Doctor?"

"What?" Jarem's brow creased, he was so surprised by the question he honestly had nothing more intelligent to say.

"Were you in love with Kathryn Janeway?" Seven's voice was suspicious as if his affirmative answer would be all the reason she would need to enact some sort of severe punishment.

"Seven, I—why are you even asking me this?" Jarem Kaz knew he was stalling. He also knew that there had been a time not so long ago when he had found the Admiral absolutely captivating. He thought perhaps that would not be what this young woman would want to hear.

"You are attempting to divert my attention to an irrelevant question before you answer mine."

Seven stood then and Jarem Kaz could think only one thing. _Oh, hell, she's going to knock my head off._

"As I said, she was an amazing person, Seven, and I'll be honest with you if situations had been different I might have tried to pursue at least a real date with her, but it was what it was. So no, I respected her, cared for her as a friend, but I wasn't in love with her." Jarem had tried to bring his own rising temper down. Emotions were running extremely high, too high. And their counselor, Astall, just had to take her shore leave early. But because he had felt his own ire rise it gave him all the motivation to ask a question he knew he shouldn't have asked. It was inappropriate, mean spirited, and below him. But he did it anyway. "What about you, Seven? Were _you_ in love with her?"

Jarem Kaz was not prepared for the screeching sound of the crushing of titanium under Seven's hand as the biobed, fortunately for him, took the brunt of the woman's objection to the question.

"This irrelevant discourse is over." And with those haughty and clipped words Seven of Nine walked efficiently out of Sickbay leaving the doctor to shake his head in sadness and empathy.

"You weren't supposed to die. You were going to outlive us all. A part of me thought you were immortal, maybe a part of me just wished it. Because losing you—knowing that you're gone, it wasn't something I ever wanted to think about. But here I am, seated in the ready room that I still imagine sometimes to be yours as if I'm just filling in while you are out charming alien dignitaries or saving wayward crewmembers.

"We've always looked to you to lead us, to lend us your unconquerable strength, your warmth and compassion, your humor… perhaps that was selfish of us. Perhaps we took you for granted because you were always there. Unselfishly, unwavering, lending support, wisdom, and even a deftly placed blow.

"And now you're gone. We've lost you to the Borg. The unbeatable Borg versus the indomitable Kathryn Janeway. Well, you beat them, Kathryn. Perhaps that's what makes the only sense in all of this. We've come up against many adversaries: the Hirogen, the Vidiian, Species 8472, the Q, the Nacene, and of course the Borg and none could ultimately defeat you. You could only truly be conquered by the one person with enough power to do so, Kathryn Janeway. You died how you lived, your way.

"I, you would be disappointed in me, in my reaction. I know you would. Hell, I'm disappointed in myself. I—I shouldn't have allowed my anger, my despair, to overpower my sense of right and wrong, of duty. Seven didn't stop me, I know she could have, and it makes me even more disgusted with myself for allowing myself to strike her, to strike out at the person who had the terrible task of telling her… family that you had died. I should seek her out. Apologize. But I just can't bring myself to do it just yet.

"A part of me is with Harry. That maybe you are still out there. Trapped in your own personal hell within the Borg Queen and as selfish as it is, I carry hope that you are. Because if you are we'll save you. We're your crew and a crew does not abandon… their Captain. But I know you aren't and I know you wouldn't want to be alive in that way. You sacrificed yourself for Earth, for us. You wouldn't have hesitated in the least. As I know I would have given my life to preserve yours. But it's all so… futile now, isn't it.

"I—I want so desperately, more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, for you to walk through those doors and tell me it had all been another one of your Janeway maneuvers. That it was unfortunate that you had to worry us all, but that you're fine and that your plan was a success. That you're alive and safe. But I know that's not going to happen. Because as much as I wanted it to be true, you weren't immortal, Kathryn.

"I've set a course for Earth. The crew that loved you deserves to pay their respects even though I know you would have a blush to your cheeks and a small humble but bright smile at the display of love that will be shown. They loved you, Kathryn. And I—I will always love you. I know you could never return my feelings while we were still trying to get this ship back to the Alpha Quadrant. And then I became Captain and you were my Admiral and I… I was scared to tell you that I was still in love with you.

"When we agreed to push our budding relationship aside when we were returned to _Voyager_ after New Earth I couldn't just stop loving you. I'm sure you knew. Or maybe you didn't. I don't know. I wasted so much time not knowing, not asking. I was a coward and I know you'd forgive me for that, but I'm not sure if I can ever forgive myself for not telling you all you should have heard. That you were loved, deeply, passionately. That you were the bravest, strongest, most compassionate and intelligent person I have ever met. That you were charming and beautiful, your smile filled those lucky enough to see it with such warmth, that your eyes captivated, that your voice was like nothing else, powerful when need be or comforting. That I fell in love with you the instant I saw you in that tiny view screen onboard the _Val Jean_ and fell in love with you more with each day of knowing you. I should have told you all this. But maybe you can hear me now. I will love you forever, Kathryn.

"End personal log."

Captain Chakotay rested against his chair as he let out an expulsion of breath close to a sob. The tears had all but dried up and now he allowed a small bittersweet smile to form as he activated a holoimage framed in polished wood.

"Maybe if you'd stop taking pictures you could help me out here." The voice was cheerful, teasing, and a bit exasperated. The picture had been taken only days before _Voyager_ had returned to New Earth for them. She had been dressed in a cobalt colored dress of a simple cut and smooth light weight material and he had thought her amazingly lovely in it. The color had highlighted her eyes and he had been lost in them the entire day they had attempted to put a patio onto their habitat.

"You're doing just fine." The joy in his voice was evident.

He had said then that he had wanted the whole construction to be well documented. She hadn't seemed overly suspicious of the flimsy reason. In truth he paid little attention to the rather dilapidated structure and all of it on how her hair drifted in the breeze, the moving of the muscles of her arms as she worked, and the way her dress flowed about her trim, feminine body. The holoimage froze at the point where she had one hand on her slim waist while the other had rested thoughtfully on her strong chin as she seemed to be attempting to will the structure to maintain cohesion.

"Kathryn." He whispered her name on a soft breath as he set the flat piece of metal atop the desk in front of him. "What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to do any of this without you? You weren't supposed to leave us."

He looked around the room that had been her domain for seven years and unbidden images of her formed. Images of him with her.

"Am I the only one who's so intent on getting home?" Her voice had been so unsure, soft, almost pleading. It had been so unlike her, but then one does not meet an idol who was supposed to be dead for four hundred years every day. And they couldn't have anticipated a colony of humans on a planet in the middle of the Delta Quadrant either. "Is it just me? Am I leading the crew on a forlorn mission with no real hope for success?"

He had tried to convey his trust, his confidence in her, his allegiance with his dark eyes and calm voice. "You're not alone."

"Four years ago I didn't even know your name, now I can't imagine a day without you." The warmth in his chest had been overwhelming then and it was all he could do to stand still as she rested a small, delicate hand on his chest and peered up at him with the softest of expressions. An expression of gratitude, of friendship, of deep affection.

"My life is far from uneventful here in the Delta Quadrant. It's not like I would have had a chance to pursue a relationship even if I had realized I was alone." He had looked at her then debating whether she was saying something to elicit a reaction from him or merely speaking idly.

"You're hardly alone, and to my way of thinking, there's plenty of time." He had wanted to tell her then how much he loved her, desired her, but he couldn't. He had been too afraid and she had seemed so fragile.

"I won't do this without my First Officer." Her eyes had the blaze within them that told him despite her words she would go ahead with the plan, she could do no less when it meant saving those in need.

"The way I see it, risking the safety of _Voyager_ is a small price to pay. If we help these people, this could be the turning point in our battle against the Borg." He had kept his voice neutral, he hadn't wanted to show indecision or worry. She had seemed agitated enough.

"I'm glad we agree, because I almost talked myself out of it." The mischievous half-grin had lightened some of the tension in the room as it always did.

He had smiled, a teasing tone entered into his own response. "Somehow I don't think you were ever in danger of doing that."

Countless memories continued to flood his thoughts with images of her. Despite thinking he could shed no more tears, Chakotay wept at the past he cherished and the future he had wished for but would never be.

Lieutenant Harry Kim attempted to keep his attention on the energy distribution flows shown on the Operations Station displays but he found that his dark gaze would often stray to the command chair or to the ready room where he had first met Captain Janeway, it seemed a lifetime ago now when he had been a newly promoted Ensign on his first mission. He remembered how he had tried to prepare himself the best he could regarding the mission to the Badlands and the woman who commanded the _USS Voyager_. He had been incredibly impressed by her scientific achievements and intrigued that she had come up through the sciences and not command, but nothing had prepared him for actually meeting the woman.

She had presented a complex mixture of command and warmth, control and barely restrained energy, professionalism and a wry sense of humor, an almost overwhelming presence contained in a petite, compact form. Harry had to smile as he heard her distinctive voice in his head.

_Mister Kim, at ease before you sprain something._

She had caught him off guard and if it had been possible he had become even more rigid at the order. The blush that had come to his cheeks when her blue eyes had seemed to scan him had embarrassed him, when he had stumbled over words he had felt the blush grow, but she had seemed not to notice any of it as she informed him to address her as "Captain". And so she had been for seven years.

Harry Kim had always wanted to excel at everything he did whether it had been music or Parrises squares and especially as a Starfleet officer, but as he had begun to understand what that meant she had always been there to encourage him, to teach him, to enable him to be the sort officer that he wanted so desperately to be.

_I just want you to know you've been one of the bright spots of this whole mission. You've exceeded any expectations I might have had of you._

Too often he had felt inept, one step behind, or unable to process what he had experienced whether it be when he had died in order to escape the Vhnori's Next Emanation or when he had inadvertently miscalculated the slipstream telemetry, which might have caused _Voyager's_ destruction if it hadn't been for a future Harry Kim who had sent corrections to Seven.

_Mister Kim, we're Starfleet officers weird is part of the job._

And even when he knew he had disappointed her, defied her orders when he been overcome by his infatuation with Derran Tal, the Varro rebel leader, she had been there for him, not to approve of his behavior but to state her understanding of it.

_The truth is, Harry, I think about you differently than the rest of the crew. Which isn't to suggest that I don't care deeply about each of them. You came to me fresh out of the Academy, wide-eyed with excitement about your first deep space assignment. From that first day, I've always felt more protective of you than the others._

He had been sitting dejectedly on the biobed when she had said these words to him, kindly, softly and he had appreciated them but he hadn't wanted her to feel that she needed to protect him. Five years was a long time and he had hoped that he had changed in that time, had become more capable, even perhaps had become a respected and valuable officer despite the fact that he had felt he was no longer the perfect officer.

_Maybe not, but you're a better man._

And as Harry looked around the Bridge he felt truly for the first time in his life that he was worthy of her respect and confidence. He was the Chief Tactical Officer, third in line for command, onboard the vessel he had started his career on and he felt proud of that and he knew that he wouldn't be the man he was today if not for his first Captain. She had allowed him to learn, to gain confidence, to become that great Starfleet officer he had dreamed of becoming when he was a child. And even though he knew he was no longer the straight-laced Harry Kim that had never missed a single class in his entire academic career or the thought to be perfect officer who would follow orders without question, since he had been a more than willing participant in assisting Admiral Janeway in removing Seven, Icheb, and the Doctor from imprisonment, he knew that he had become that better man.

Harry wiped away the tears that had almost dropped from his eyes, he wasn't about to breakdown in front of his crew. Instead he refocused his attention on the equations he had inputted into the terminal even as Jarem Kaz passed by him with no acknowledgment as the doctor went directly to the ready room where their Captain had sequestered himself for the last several hours. Harry would have noticed the delayed admittance of the doctor if he hadn't been so focused on the outcome of his equations. The tachyo-kinetic energy output was very promising.

Jarem Kaz prided himself on being a patient, understanding man, so it was with some surprise that he found himself quite impatiently awaiting entry into Captain Chakotay's ready room. He had debated for several long moments whether to address how the Captain had reacted upon hearing the tragic news of Admiral Janeway's death, namely the man's physical assault on Seven, or to allow the emotional man some time so he could address it himself. But it had been several hours since the incident, _Voyager_ was almost ready for departure procedures and Chakotay had been hidden away in his ready room since Jarem had taken Seven to Sickbay.

The Doctor wondered if he would perhaps not be allowed in when the doors slid open with a low hiss. The sparse ready room looked as it always did and Jarem was glad that no destruction had occurred. His gaze went to his commanding officer who was seated at the centrally positioned desk, holophotos and PADDs were scattered on top. As Jarem approached hesitantly he had no doubts as to who was featured in those photos.

"Doctor, what did you need?" Chakotay's voice was soft, worn and he didn't look up from the PADD he was currently reading. His dark face was ruddy, but that was the only evidence that strong emotions had played out upon it.

Jarem seated himself with a sigh not waiting for permission as his light blue eyes moved over the various photos that displayed Kathryn Janeway in various forms and incarnations. In some, she was the ever commanding Captain dressed in the old style uniform of the early seventies and the others, the more captivating ones, were her in civilian attire, dresses, and casual pant suits. He caught his Captain's dark eyes as they both looked up from the photos.

"I _need_ you to be the Captain." Jarem tried to modulate his voice so it didn't sound accusing but he wasn't certain he succeeded. The look on Chakotay's voice would agree with his uncertainty.

"You're out of line, Jarem." Chakotay's voice lacked the strength to be defensive, it sounded tired and he looked near exhaustion. Emotionally and physically drained, Chakotay rested against the back of his chair as he tried to muster some strength to defend himself against his CMO.

"That might be true, but I'm right." Jarem leaned forward as he drew the Captain's attention away from the photos with a hand atop of them. "Harry is devastated and looking for away to time travel I might add, Tom has locked himself away in his quarters, Seven's hiding out in the astrometrics lab, Lyssa, Vorik, and some of the others are holding a prayer service in the mess, and the Captain… well he's hidden himself away in his ready room when what his crew needs is their commanding officer at this time of mourning. To be strong, steady, to see them through this."

Jarem could see that he had lost Chakotay to the photos once again. And as it did when he had been blindsided by Seven in Sickbay, his temper became short and words he knew he shouldn't say came to the fore. "Admiral Janeway would be ashamed if she could see you now."

That gained the Captain's attention as his head shot up and dark, narrowed eyes locked onto Jarem with dangerous intent. The heat rose visibly on Chakotay's dusky features and again Jarem thought the same exact thing he had when he had been with Seven. _Oh, hell, he's going to knock my head off._

Too far in to leave now, Jarem persevered, he was going to get through to Chakotay somehow. "What, Captain, are you going to hit me, like you hit Seven?"

The Captain seemed to deflate due to an unseen force as the anger left him and shame filled his dark features. He returned his lumbering form to his chair as he pushed his hand through his silver speckled close cropped hair.

"What would you have me do, Jarem?" The voice was honestly questioning, Chakotay wanted an answer because he was at a loss.

"This crew needs their Captain, Chakotay. Most of the crew onboard was with the Admiral in the Delta Quadrant, you surely know better than I how they feel about her." Jarem knew from just talking with the various ex-Delta Quadrant crewmembers over the years that respect, admiration, and deep seated loyalty were in abundance. And the Doctor knew that for others it had run deeper than that for the woman who had gotten her ship, her crew, home. "They need you to be present for them."

"I've spent the last… I don't know how many hours sitting here, thinking about the hundreds, thousands, of times I've seen her in this room, sitting right here where I am, or seated underneath the windows, or pacing around the room figuring how to get us through the latest crisis and I can't help but to think, I just keep thinking, how am I going to do this? How am I supposed to do any of this without her?" Chakotay's moist eyes drifted to a photo of the two of them at Neelix's first annual celebration of Prixin. She had been dressed in a simply designed plum colored dress that had held her small form attractively and he could see in his own face looking up at him that he had been utterly enthralled with that dress and the way her long thick chestnut colored hair had been allowed free reign and had drifted softly around her delicate shoulders.

"You will, because I know that's what she would want you to do." Jarem leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on a broad shoulder of his Captain. "And I… I am so very sorry, Chakotay. I can't imagine how much pain you are in. But I know about fifty people onboard right now who are also in pain and they need you."

Chakotay looked evenly at Jarem Kaz before he tapped his comm. badge. "All hands, this is the Captain, we will hold a service for Admiral Janeway in one hour in the Mess Hall. I believe it would be fitting to do so on the ship she loved so much and the crew that had meant so much to her. Chakotay out."

"I know I'm not Astall." Jarem Kaz could picture the Huanni counselor, how her pale purple ears would have drooped in sympathy and sadness for her Captain and crewmates. Jarem held his hands before him offering himself up. "But I want you to know if you want to talk, I'm here."

As Jarem stood to leave since he had assumed the silence had been an indication Chakotay had no intention of talking to him, the Captain's soft voice stopped him and rooted him in his seat with the words that were so sadly expelled.

"I love her." Chakotay shook with the renewed anguish he felt. He had thought he had it managed until his CMO walked in and made him confront his regret again. "God how I loved her."

"I know." And Jarem did. It had been apparent immediately when the three of them had met at Sandrine's. What Jarem didn't know was if it had been apparent to the Admiral.

"I suppose you did." Chakotay wasn't necessarily comfortable with the idea of him being so easily read, but then he had never really hid his feelings for Kathryn Janeway that well.

"Did she?" Jarem hadn't meant to ask the question, but he did want to know the answer and he thought perhaps it would help his Captain to lay it all out there.

"Yes." Chakotay sighed as he wiped his eyes with his large, tanned hands. "At the end of our second year in the Delta Quadrant, she and I were infected by a virus and had to remain on a planet that prevented the symptoms of the virus to manifest. We were on New Earth for almost four months. I had thought myself in love with her long before then, almost immediately upon meeting her actually, but nothing could have prepared me for spending four month alone with her. I—I didn't know how much I could feel for another until then. One night I told her a… an ancient legend, a way for me to tell her how much I loved her, I had never seen her cry before that moment and it was… the most beautiful thing I have ever seen because she had smiled as well. But then _Voyager_ came back for us. With the cure. And we were the Captain and her loyal first officer again. She told me no, kindly and sweetly, but firmly. And I had tried to understand, did understand, she was so focused on keeping us safe and getting us home, she didn't feel like she could have anything else in her life besides her mission and her responsibility."

"And then when you got back you became a Captain and she became your Admiral." Jarem shook his head sadly at the lost opportunities. Over the last two years of knowing both Captain Chakotay and Admiral Janeway, the doctor had seen how the quiet, reserved man would almost glow with warmth for the woman, how broad his smile was and how Chakotay would look at her with such a look of adoration that Jarem had almost felt like he was interrupting something private, intimate. She, however, had never been as readable. Of course, there was warmth that emanated from the woman, that was almost a constant when she had been with people she trusted, mainly her former senior staff. But Jarem had to admit, he wasn't sure how the Admiral would have responded if Chakotay had confessed his feelings to her.

"And I became a coward." Chakotay had worried so much that she would have rejected him again that he hadn't been brave enough to tell her what he still felt for her. Had always felt for her. "I wish I had told her, I wish she had known how much she was loved. Not just by me. Hundreds of people that span the quadrants, they loved her too. We owe her so much."

Jarem Kaz and Chakotay sat in silent contemplation for long moments both thinking of the woman who had an almost uncanny ability to captivate a person, to garner their loyalty and trust, to encourage their confidence and self-assurance, and to gain their admiration and love without any conscious trying on her part. That was just who Kathryn Janeway was.

"I think… a part of her did know. She struck me as a pretty perceptive person." Jarem grasped his commanding officer's forearm. "Maybe not to the extent that some felt, but I have no doubt that she loved her crew immensely."

"Thank you, Jarem." Chakotay rose from his chair before he grasped the hand of his CMO. "It was… good to tell someone, everything. But now the crew needs its Captain. And he needs to apologize to someone first."

The steady blue eyes were locked onto Seven's as she felt a muscle twitch in her jaw underneath the starburst implant as she tried to determine the sincerity in those husky tones and the fact that she wanted so desperately to trust her Captain, her mentor, her friend as she had before, unquestionably. The softly spoken words stirred something within Seven, a warmth spread throughout her chest and she felt a small amount of salty moisture gather at the corner of her one human eye. She almost smiled as she found a discrepancy in her Captain's remembrance.

"It was Stardate 52842, oh six hundred hours in the Mess Hall. We had just finished breakfast." Seven's voice caught a bit, she remembered the event in question perfectly. It had been two mornings after she had been rescued by the Captain after Seven had rejoined the Collective in order to ensure _Voyager's_ safety. Seven hadn't been able to fully understand how the Captain had so easily forgiven her and the betrayal, but Captain Janeway had and their relationship had returned to what it had been except that Seven had felt a decided need to express her feelings even if her words turned out to be inadequate. Her voice had been soft, but the Captain had heard her heartfelt words and Seven had detected moisture in her Captain's eyes as she nodded in acceptance at the words of gratitude.

Seven could detect the same soft look on her Captain's elegant features now and the same trapped, but present moisture in the blue eyes. "My mistake. Stardate today. Janeway beams aboard the _Delta Flyer_. She reminds Seven of the bond that has grown between them. Seven lowers the force field and she decides to come home. All I'm asking is that you trust me again."

And in that moment, despite the paranoid scenarios that played through her mind, Seven did trust again because she had never known this woman to ever be anything less than honest with her. She lowered the force field and watched almost tensely as her Captain closed the distance between them and lowered her small frame into a kneeling position very close to Seven. Seven had never wanted to embrace a person as she had wanted to then, but having felt extremely inept at the physical action she instead tried to convey with her light blue eyes the emotions that welled within. And she knew her Captain understood, because she understood so much about Seven and always had, and as she requested a beam out she had smiled, a gentle grateful smile and Seven had felt safe and loved.

"Seven?"

Seven did not turn around to acknowledge the other person who had been responsible for the creation of the impressive Astrometrics lab she had been occupying for the past several hours. Ever since her discomforting discussion with Jarem Kaz.

"Seven?" Harry waited for her to turn around, but when she didn't he debated whether to just leave or to try to comfort her and perhaps find some for himself in the process. "What are you doing?"

"I am remembering." Her voice had been soft, but sure. "I find this space conducive to the activity."

"I—I can't be on the Bridge right now." Harry was ashamed of his own unease, but when Seven finally did face him there was a look of understanding on her features. Feeling more comfortable now that he had admitted this he continued. "Or the Mess Hall. I feel like, like I can hear her voice, it's like… a holoprogram is running in my head. I can see us. Talking. She would always encourage me to trust in myself, even when I didn't really know what I was doing, felt like I was two steps behind, she would say something or smile and I felt like I could do it. I, I wanted her to be proud of me."

"Do you have reason to doubt that she was, Lieutenant?" Seven almost admitted her same desire and perhaps if he was reassured she would be too.

"I don't know… no, I don't think so." Harry shook his head as if trying to come up with the correct answer. Finally when he did, he smiled. "I felt that she was."

"When my cortical node shut down I too had fears that I had… disappointed her. I thought that she would not accept my death because I was incomplete. I have always looked to her as my guide to humanity, my example. I have needed her constant assistance to develop my individuality. I thought I had failed, failed her. She told me I had not, that she was unable to accept my death because she did not want to lose… a friend." Seven could envision their conversation perfectly in her mind. The Captain's eyes had held tears and her voice had been gentle, shaky but resolute when she had addressed Seven's fears.

_You haven't failed, Seven. You've exceeded my expectations. You've become an individual, an extraordinary individual. If I'm having trouble accepting your condition it's only because I don't want to lose a friend.__  
_

"God, Seven, what're we going to do without her?" Harry was visibly shaken from the vulnerability Seven had just displayed and how it matched his own.

"We will carry on," Seven's chin tilted up in certainty. "That is what she would want us to do."

Tom Paris stared blankly at the now black screen of his desktop monitor that had contained the image of his wife only moments ago. To say that B'Elanna Torres hadn't taken the news of Kathryn Janeway's death well would be the understatement of the century. His ears continued to ring in response to the bellow of rage and anguish that had escaped powerfully from his half-Klingon wife. He had been glad that their daughter and her godfather were taking a tour of the lava flows instead of at the hololab. He would then have had to fear for permanent hearing damage to his child. Not that he could blame B'Elanna for her reaction. It had taken him some time to walk dazed to his quarters and collapse on the floor in front of his couch. And then to get himself to a point where he could muster the strength to place the horrible call.

_I've entered into the ship's log on this date that I'm granting a field commission of lieutenant to Thomas Eugene Paris. Congratulations. You've earned this, Tom_.

Tom looked at his palm and thought he could almost feel the soft, warm weight of her delicately boned hand in his again. He remembered how she had smiled at him then. It was a small pull to her lips that grew until it was the brightest smile he had ever received and he, Tom Paris, rogue, had been completely and utterly humbled by it. He hadn't known then what it had fully meant; it had been her putting her trust, her faith in him because she had truly believed him to be a capable officer, a convict that could be completely redeemed. Even if he had doubts, she didn't because that was who she was. How many chances had she given him? Two, three…

When he had been demoted to Ensign after the whole Monean incident and she had looked at him with such a look of disappointment it had torn him apart to bear witness to it, but he had disobeyed her orders for virtuous reasons, ones he had hoped she could respect if not agree with. But even with the thirty days of imprisonment, he had never worried that she would turn her back on him. He had just known he would have to work that much harder to convince her that her trust in him hadn't been misplaced. And when he had come to his bridge shift and seen the small wooden box on his chair he had felt successful and the feeling of her gently replacing the small black pip had filled him with the same pride and humility it had when she had first given him the field commission in her ready room all those years ago.

_What would she be doing now?_ Tom let out a long suffering sigh filled with self-contempt. _Not moping around her quarters. She would be bringing everyone together. Cheering them up with her smiles and her wry sense of humor._

With renewed strength and a sense of purpose, Tom rose from the chair to cross the room to the replicator. "Locke's Single Malt."

"What is it?"

"Just take it all right?" Tom thrust the small glass filled with amber colored liquid into his friend's hesitant hand.

Tom wondered if his former Captain would have reprimanded them severely for drinking while they were still technically on duty, despite the fact that operations were stalled for the next half an hour by the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yard's personnel. Or perhaps, he thought with a bright grin, she would have pulled up a chair and downed the drink without a second thought. That's what had always intrigued him about her. She was refined, elegant, and almost regal but then she would surprise him by being a pool shark, or getting tipsy at one of Neelix's numerous parties, or by knocking an unfortunate alien on his ass when he had made an off color comment and proceeded to try to initiate a more physical first contact with her.

Seated with Tom at the table in the holographically created Sandrine's were Captain Janeway's senior staff, or at least the ones that still served on board _Voyager_. The only addition was their CMO, Jarem Kaz who, like Barclay, had become an honorary member of the family.

Tom passed the bottle to his present Captain. Chakotay had spent most of the morning in his ready room. Doing what, Tom didn't feel the need to speculate. It had been obvious for several years how much Chakotay loved Kathryn Janeway, was in love with her. He couldn't imagine the hell Chakotay was going through.

Chakotay poured himself a drink before he handed it to Seven, whom he had apologized to directly after leaving his ready room. She had merely told him that "no permanent damage had been done" but he had known that had been her way to offer forgiveness.

"Alcohol impairs my neural processers." Seven looked uneasily at the bottle before she passed it on to Jarem Kaz.

"That's the point, Seven." He took the bottle and filled his glass and Seven's.

Chakotay stood then and the others quickly followed suit. He held up the small glass with a bittersweet grin. "To the finest woman I've ever known. Not to mention the bravest, most compassionate, strongest and definitely the most stubborn. To Kathryn Janeway."

"To Kathryn Janeway!" Her former crew exalted her name in unison and without hesitation on anyone's part the Irish whiskey left their glasses in a flourish of movement.

Tom patted his friend's back as Harry coughed powerfully from the burning that had transverse his throat and now rested hotly in his stomach.

_Kids these days,_ Tom thought with a grin.

"I think she would have liked this." All eyes were on Chakotay as he spoke with a mixture of sorrow and approval. "I don't think she would have wanted us to be sitting around mourning. She'd want to be celebrated. Well, no that's not right, she would have felt uneasy, humbled, but, she'd want us… not to grieve for her."

"Yeah, that's about right." Tom could picture the kind blue eyes of Kathryn Janeway and could almost hear her husky voice filled with a bit of humor and humility. _Buck up now, moping about won't do anyone any good. Remember the good times. They're what's important now._

"Do you remember our last day at the Markonian outpost?" Tom's smile grew enormously bright as a few heads nodded and smiles formed. Jarem Kaz, for his part just basked in the lightness after the dark. Tom turned his bright eyes towards Jarem as he explained the set up. "Harry and I got into… a bit of a misunderstanding with some of the locals on this huge space station."

"I believe the correct term is 'street brawl'." Those who didn't know Seven well would have thought her comment flat, but they could detect the humor behind her even words.

"Yeah, well, anyway, it got sort of out of hand—" Tom pressed forward as he remembered the reprimand that Harry and he had received. Again her voice echoed in his mind. _Well, did you win? Good._

"We were arrested." Harry sounded sheepish as Jarem Kaz let out a surprised laugh. Who would have thought, straight-laced Harry Kim, arrested? Then the doctor turned his attention back to their First Officer and knew exactly the reasons behind Harry's arrest.

"Beside the point. So, Harry, me, and the Captain, we all went down to the bar where the owner was insisting on reimbursement for what amounted to a bunch of broken glasses." Tom shrugged, seemingly unrepentant of the damage he had been responsible for.

"Three tables and a few bar stools." Harry's voice was again the leveling agent.

"Yeah, anyway, she came down to, you know, make reparations for us I guess." Tom's voice was getting more jubilant as he pulled nearer to the punch line. "Well this Morphinian bar owner, all green scales and fishy smell, had a, well proposition for how _she_ could… er—pay him. His attempt at first contact though was met with a mean punch that laid the guy out flat."

"She punched him!" The disbelief was clear in Jarem's voice, though he had let out another bark of surprised laughter.

"Knocked him clear on his ass." Tom recalled how he had watched with wonder as the big lizard had landed hard on the barroom floor before he or Harry could "protect" their Captain's virtue. The look that had been on his Captain's face then had been so smug and self-assured that he was sure if the police had been around they would have thought twice about arresting her. "Hey, you can't blame her, that guy's tail was overly friendly, you know."

"Kathryn Janeway involved in a bar brawl, I have to say I'm not as shocked as I think I should be." Yes, Jarem could see the fiery woman making her disinterest clear with a knock to the head.

"Normally, I do not believe that she would use violence as a primary means to end a disagreement." Seven had to admit she approved of the efficient discouragement the strike would have provided. "However, I believe she stated that 'the guy had it coming'."

Seven had been curious as to the altercation and she recalled how Captain Janeway had mumbled something about the Morphinian being as bad as that "damned plant". Seven still didn't understand what that had meant.

"No doubt he did." Jarem nodded in hearty agreement.

"You should have seen the look on Harry's face though!" Tom clapped a hand against the back of the man in question. "I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head."

"I just didn't expect it that's all!" Harry's voice became high-pitched as he indeed recalled his flabbergasted reaction to seeing his Captain, his role model, and if truth be told, his mother figure knocking a guy out who outweighed her by about two hundred pounds and was about seven feet tall. "I don't think you reacted any better."

"Whatever. You know when I asked her about it all she said was 'Mr. Paris'." Tom's voice got decidedly lower and more commanding invoking the same tones as Kathryn Janeway. "'Sometimes even _my_ diplomacy runs out'."

The impression had been reminiscent enough of the woman if not entirely accurate that warm chuckles had followed it.

"I remember the first time I looked at her as this… amazing human being rather than the larger than life Captain." Harry's voice grew soft and pensive, a smile played on his lips. "We were on an away mission and found all these bushes of over-ripe fruit. After eating Leola root stew for the last week I gorged myself on them. I must have eaten half a kilo. I was embarrassed by the way my hands and mouth were all purple, but then the Captain, the Captain came and she sat down next to me, and I had to smile because her mouth and hands were all stained too. Then she put her arm around my shoulder and she said… she said 'Ensign, these are the times we have to remember'. She's, she was… I'm sorry."

The tears had come unexpectedly to Harry's eyes but he felt comforted not embarrassed by the reassuring hand on his shoulder. He could see similar moisture in Tom's eyes.

"I wish I had known her better." Jarem Kaz had felt out of place when Tom and Harry had approached him after the service in the Mess Hall about sending the Admiral off in true Irish style until they had convinced him with a few simple words, _you're part of the family whether you like it or not, Doc_. "I know the journey through the Delta Quadrant was unbelievably difficult, but a part of me wished I had been there. It was a remarkable thing you people did, what she did."

Jarem thought he had seen a hint of who the Admiral had been as a Captain when the two of them had met up at a little coffee shop in Santa Barbara and conspired to help save the world as they knew it. It now seemed like forever ago. He had seen the fiery determination he had heard second hand about first when she had confronted him in his sickbay. And then when he had contacted her to initiate their plan. Even with her shoulder length auburn hair disarrayed from sleep and a silky pink robe visible she might as well have been garbed in her Admiral's uniform for all the power she had projected through that small monitor. He knew then that she would have done anything, and did do some pretty audacious things, in order to save the crew that had become her family. Like a mother hen tending her chicks. Or a wolf mother.

Chakotay, who had remained silent during the story telling now added his gentle tones. "I wonder if she knew how much she impacted all of us. How she saved many of us. We were taken into the Delta Quadrant against our will but I can't imagine what would have happened to us if we hadn't been. A lot of us would probably be either dead or in prison. We owe her our lives. I don't know if she ever knew. I don't know if anyone ever told her how our lives were better for knowing her. How those seven years made us who we are because of the journey and the unifying mission to get home. How we trusted her completely, followed her unquestionably because we knew she never stopped believing we'd get home. That she'd find a way. And… she completed her mission."

The small glass cylinders were once again filled with amber liquid and they stood to honor their former Captain once more.

"Here's to Captain Janeway." Chakotay's voice was sure and strong as he held his glass up.

"To Captain Janeway!" The chorus was loud as they gave adulation to the name.

"Lieutenant Ayala to the Captain."

Chakotay cleared the melancholy away as he answered with a sure, even tone. "Go ahead."

"We've been cleared for departure."

The somberness in the room mixed with the remembrance of one woman as Chakotay spoke words that meant more than just an order.

"Set a course, for home."


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 6

_Jupiter Station _

Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres was not happy.

"If you had listened to me the first time, we wouldn't have wasted the last two hours on a security system that wouldn't protect it from a targ!" B'Elanna's face flushed with frustration as her voice grew lower and more dangerous with each passing word.

"I'm a doctor, not a security officer, LC, so it's not really my fault now is it?" Doctor Lewis Zimmerman rolled his eyes to the ceiling as annoyance marred his already craggy features. "You're the so called expert on the autonomous self-sustaining mobile holo-emitter, so fix it!"

"Mobile emitter! Is it so hard to just say mobile emitter? And stop calling me 'LC'!" B'Elanna's roar of frustration filled Doctor Zimmerman's office, which was set in the heart of the Jupiter Station.

Six days ago when Admiral Janeway had signed off on B'Elanna's request to recruit the modern father of holotechnology to assist her in reinforcing security measures on the prototype of the newly commissioned emitter for permanent use she had said to Janeway, "I've dealt with the Doctor for seven years I think I can handle this guy".

The look on the Admiral's face then had given B'Elanna a moment's pause, there had been a look of godly knowing. But B'Elanna had shaken it off, self-assured as she was. Now it took all of her patience not to knock Doctor Zimmerman over the head with a hyperspanner.

"I can say it just fine, I _am_ a genius after all, LC. My point is that your term is imprecise." Zimmerman crunched down hard on his breadstick, a few crumbs escaped from his lips as he stalked around his lab, plate in hand. "When your Admiral Jane asked me to take time out of _my_ busy schedule to help _you_ out with this project that is obviously so far above your ridged head, I had hoped you'd be a bit more capable than this."

A growl emitted from the woman that would have intimidated the sturdiest of people, this man however either didn't notice the warning or didn't care.

"If you'd allocate more energy to the structural integrity grid like I had suggested then we wouldn't be having trouble with the shield array now." More crunching followed this proclamation and thus he missed the look of murderous intent shot his way.

The less than flattering and very loudly spoken Klingon expletive however did draw his attention.

"You kiss your baby with that mouth?" Zimmerman had to admit he liked this woman, she was so easily provoked.

The baby in question, Miral Torres-Paris, was presently with her godfather, which Zimmerman had to admit surprised him in a most pleasant way. He felt proud of this particular Mark One EMH of his in a way that was unusual for him. The only other person he felt this way towards was… "Haley? Haley!"

The sandy haired elfin featured woman entered calmly at the almost hysterical summons. "Yes, Doctor?"

Haley's voice had a melodic quality to it that had reminded B'Elanna of Kes when she had first been introduced to Doctor Zimmerman's assistant. What had surprised B'Elanna to learn after two days at the Jupiter Station was that Haley was a hologram, she had thought that to be the reason why any seemingly sentient being could stand being in the presence of the acerbic doctor for any extended period of time, but she had been told that aside from maintenance Haley's program had been left unchanged since her inception. Her daughter's godfather aside, B'Elanna thought Haley a particularly impressive feat of holotechnology. Not that she'd tell this petaQ that.

"Get Reginald up here, at least he knows something about holography!" Zimmerman let the forgotten plate of salad clatter atop a workstation as he once again stalked about his lab. "People think since you can manage a warp core you can do anything."

"Mr. Barclay is at Starfleet Academy." Haley's voice betrayed no inflections aside from infinite patience.

"What? When did this happen?" Zimmerman threw his hands up as he displayed the epitome of exasperation. "Why am I the last to be told about everything?"

"He informed you when he left ten days ago." Haley recalled the moment perfectly. Reginald Barclay had told the two of them with a beaming smile that he had been asked to take over for Admiral Janeway as the instructor for Interquadrant Communications. Doctor Zimmerman had been so engrossed in the new holospy program that he had merely grunted with irritation in response.

"Well, I guess I'm stuck with _you_ then." The look he gave B'Elanna was not unlike a look a person would give a not so interesting bug that they had just squashed beneath the sole of their shoe.

"I'm jumping for joy too." B'Elanna sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Doctor, we're receiving a hail through the Utopia Planitia communications array." Hayley's hazel eyes looked up to the ceiling as if she was remembering something rather than relaying what the Jupiter Station's computer was informing her of. "It's for you, Commander Torres."

"Of course it is. Who bothers talking to me these days? I'm just one of the most brilliant minds of the last millennia, but who would want to talk to me?" Zimmerman waved a hand towards the outer room, the lobby of sorts. "Please make it quick, we've got a lot of work to do without you delaying us with maudlin displays of affection."

B'Elanna had to forcefully keep her mouth shut as she stormed out of the lab into the relatively comfortableness of the outer room. She plopped down heavily and with a long suffering sigh onto one of the desk chairs before she activated the monitor.

Her husband's handsome and eternally boyish face was framed within the small view screen and even though he had a gentle smile to his lips the vision he made caused B'Elanna to lose her breath as her heart sped up and the blood coursed more quickly through her veins as if preparing her for a fight.

"Hey, beautiful." Tom's voice was flat, lost sounding and she could easily see that he had to struggle to maintain his composure. "How're my two favorite ladies doing?"

"We're fine. Miral's with the Doctor." Not one to mince words, that was the extent of B'Elanna's need for pleasantries. "What's going on?"

"It's all gone wrong, B'Elanna. All wrong." Her husband's brow creased as he looked almost pleadingly at her through the small screen. There weren't tears, but the redness in his eyes clearly indicated that recently there had been a momentous amount.

"Tom?" As opposed to humans, B'Elanna's chest became overly hot, constrictive, not out of fear necessarily but more of defensive response, readying the person to go on the offense quickly. "Please. Tell me what happened."

"The Borg, B'Elanna, the damned Borg! They—" He looked away as he wiped his eyes with his shaky hands. Tom's eyes burned from the tears that had already been shed and now they ached from the strain. "Oh, god, they killed her. She's dead, B'Elanna, the Admiral—Janeway is gone!"

"But that's—that's not possible." B'Elanna's face flushed hotly from the adrenaline that shot like quicksilver through her veins. "She's Janeway! She can't die!"

"B'Elanna, I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." Tom had never felt more useless than he did at this moment. He wanted to be there. To hold and comfort her or even take a few Klingon infused blows. But all he could do was sit in his damned chair and watch as his wife's world fell apart around her. "B'Elanna?"

A great, deep and full-bodied, rough with pain, enraged, deafening bellow emitted from B'Elanna Torres then and the message, though impulsive and unintentional, was clear. Be warned, Sto-vo-kor, a mighty warrior is on her way.

"All right, my little warrior." The hologram smiled brightly which caused deeper creases to form on his already lined face as he coaxed the little girl towards the transporter room.

The Doctor relished the feel of the warm, tiny hand in his and the little sounds of wonderment that emitted from his goddaughter as they walked along the promenade beneath the transparent aluminum dome that protected carbon based life forms from the hydrogen rich gases of Jupiter's air. He also found comfort that the little girl would not pick up on the more… robust language her mother used when extremely annoyed with Doctor Lewis Zimmerman, a brilliant man but a bit rusty on the social delicacies, which after almost a week with the man B'Elanna tended to have less patience with.

"I want to stay longer! Please." The little girl with forehead ridges that announced her Klingon heritage looked up at her godfather with big dark brown eyes filled with a determined glint. She was a little over two years old, precocious for her age, and wanted nothing more in life than to explore the multiple worlds around her.

"It's time for your dinner." The Doctor tried to resist, but the small pout and furrowed brow were making it extremely difficult. He used all the will-power he could summon to make his voice sound more commanding. "It's important for growing little girls to get enough nutrition."

"I'm not little!" The scowl was back as little arms crossed over her barrel shaped chest clad in shades of navy blue and forest green.

"Of course not. My mistake, for you are a mighty warrior." The Doctor smiled again, reassuringly.

In fact, Miral was small for her age, seemingly thin boned and tiny in stature but he knew that the seemingly diminutive form concealed above human strength. He had thought to worry about such a thing for when Miral developed, but aside from having little temper tantrums common for all children she was well-behaved and kind.

"And mighty warriors must eat, to keep up their strength to do battle and gain honor." The Doctor had found it a bit odd at first that Miral had taken to the idea of Klingon valor, but then he figured it was good for her to not reject her Klingon heritage as her mother once had.

"Banana pancakes?" Again, those dark brown eyes captured the Doctor in their persuasive hold.

"I suppose." It took quite a bit of effort on his part to refuse the little girl anything, so he usually just conceded to her wishes. "Spoiling her rotten" was what he had been accused by Miral's mother of doing, but he had to smirk at that since B'Elanna also had difficulties saying no to her little girl. "I'll even have the replicator shape them into little bat'leths for you. How's that sound?"

"With strawberry syrup?" Again Miral got a nod of acceptance to her request.

The Doctor recalled how he had told Admiral Janeway about Miral's enjoyment of eating the batter made bat'leths with "blood" on them. The Admiral had looked so aghast at this that he had wished for his holographic camera to capture the amusing expression. But like so many before her, Kathryn Janeway had succumbed to the little girl's wishes and had confessed later to the Doctor that she had found it "strange, a bit grotesque, but adorable". Despite the rank of Admiral, those who knew Janeway well were quite aware that she gladly took orders from her goddaughter. With sparkling blue eyes and a wide bright grin. And in turn, Miral adored her godmother.

He thought idly that perhaps B'Elanna would be willing to let him take Miral to San Francisco for a visit with the Admiral since the Borg had been taken care of. The threat to Earth might have happened only ten hours ago, but the Doctor knew the capacity for people to remember the tragedy, the epic event, and then move quickly past it to focus on their own lives. It was how humans continued on, he supposed.

The Doctor kept Miral close as they entered the transporter room, she had a tendency to want to explore and push buttons if left unattended. The transporter chief smiled brightly and greeted the Doctor respectfully and then Miral with a high pitched lightness to his tone that made the Doctor shake his head. Why adults spoke to children this way was beyond him.

"Say goodbye to the Chief, Miral, and be sure to thank him." The Doctor had already told the man their destination and after Miral waved happily they disappeared in a sparkling of blue energy until they found themselves back on Jupiter Station where they were greeted by Haley, with… tears in her eyes, and a rather severe looking Doctor Zimmerman.

The lines between the Doctor's eyebrows creased deeply in sudden worry. Something had obviously happened to make the ever composed Haley cry and for the always flippant Doctor Zimmerman to look so grim.

"Doctor, I'll take Miral. It's time for your dinner isn't it, sweetie?" Haley held her arms out before her as she bent down to be eye level with the girl who had suddenly become shy. But finally she did step forward into the arms of the hologram.

"Can I still have battle lit pancakes?" Miral's small arms surrounded Haley's neck and it would have perhaps been uncomfortable had the hologram been required to breath.

"Of course." Haley smiled, albeit sadly, at the Doctor before she headed to the mess hall.

"Doctor, please, come with me." Zimmerman didn't wait for a response as he led the Doctor out of the room to the hall that led to his office.

"What's this about?" The Doctor had such a feeling of dread that he thought perhaps he would overload his systems if the feeling increased any more. But he didn't overload when his concern soared as he took in the comfortable outer room to the holoprograming lab. It was in shambles. The ruins of Haley's glass and steel desk littered the gray carpet and he couldn't even imagine what had contorted the titanium stools and dinner table into such oddly twisted shapes.

"You should probably sit down." It took Zimmerman a moment to realize that were no longer any places to sit. "Computer, two desk chairs."

Before they were even fully detailed, Zimmerman seated himself heavily in one as he waited for the Doctor to do the same. "I don't feel like I should be the one to tell you this, but Commander Torres has been… incapacitated. Taking my furniture along with her."

"B'Elanna did this?" The Doctor scanned the room once more and could now see the markings on metal that looked to be indentations made by fingers.

"She was… upset." Zimmerman couldn't really think of a better term as he was uncomfortable with such emotional displays from beings. And never would he have expected the scene that awaited him when he had rushed into the outer room to see what that accursed yelling was all about and the crashing of glass. B'Elanna Torres had torn apart the room. He would have had a snide comment and a complaint or two but the way she had been slumped against the wall with her knees drawn up against her chest had stopped him. And then she had looked up and her face had been reddened from both tears and the heat that he could feel emanating for her when he had bent down to help her to her feet.

"Commander?" He had been careful to avoid becoming like his dining room table as he had let go of his grasp on her arms.

Then she had told him what had happened and as if in a daze she had informed him that she would be going to Earth as soon as the next transport was ready. He had asked her about the Doctor then, but she hadn't heard his question and walked unsteadily out of the room.

"What do you know about the Borg attack?" Zimmerman watched the mirror image of himself look distraught and wondered if he had the same expression on his face.

"Just what was on the comm. channels. They're not back are they?" The Doctor had almost stood then, abruptly, but Zimmerman had stopped him with a hand and a shake of his head.

"No, they're gone. The cube was destroyed. What you don't know, it would seem, was _who_ was on that cube when it blew… when it… imploded." The words were leaving him. He had been more than happy that the cube had been obliterated. But he hadn't known then what he did now. And now that celebration seemed bittersweet since he had to tell his "son" that he had just lost his "mother".

The Doctor sunk deeper in his chair as he felt without a doubt that he was extremely ill-prepared for what was to come.

"Your Admiral Janeway…"

The Doctor only heard those three words before his program suddenly and completely decompiled.

Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres and the Emergency Medical Hologram Mark One known simply as the Doctor were seated onboard a Jupiter Station transport shuttle on route to Earth. Neither beings felt compelled to break the silence that had formed between them, so they sat silently in reflective contemplation oblivious to the other passengers onboard. Their thoughts mirrored as they remembered the woman who had been their Captain, their friend, their guide, and their biggest champion.

_I know that we haven't always seen eye to eye, but despite our differences you helped me become a good officer and I'd like to think you're proud of me for it._

_I am._

The gentle, sincere voice in B'Elanna's mind of the woman who had left them far too early caused a heat to rise in the half-Klingon from both rage at the injustice of it and from the incomprehensible sadness that had been her constant companion since she had learned of the loss of their commanding officer from her husband only an hour or two before.

She had lost track of time as she had been busy packing her daughter's necessities and her own and bringing the Doctor's program back online after it had decompiled into his mobile emitter. Luckily he had also been linked to the quite sophisticated hologrid of the Jupiter Station's holoprogramming lab and it hadn't been too difficult to get him back. Though she remembered that he hadn't been necessarily comforted by his escape from oblivion.

B'Elanna had never seen the Doctor look more devastated and if anyone had any question as to the legitimacy of his sentience they only had to look at him then and there would have been no more doubt. Tears had filled his dark eyes when he had crushed B'Elanna to him as he had spoken words of sympathy and of pain into her ear as she had done the same.

What had surprised her then was how somber Doctor Zimmerman had been, no snide comments had passed through his lips, only words that had held empathy that she had not expected he had been capable of emitted from the man as they had said their goodbyes. And then Haley had given them warm hugs meant to comfort as she too apologized for what fate had given them.

Now, B'Elanna kissed the small ridges on her daughter's forehead as her child sleepily snuggled deeper into her neck. The little girl had been aware early on that her mother and godfather were sad about something, but neither had the strength to tell the little girl that her beloved godmother was gone. They hardly had the strength to tell themselves that reality.

"Attention Jupiter Station shuttle passengers, we will be landing at the San Francisco transport station in five minutes. Please have your luggage collected within those minutes. Thank you. And welcome to Earth. I hope you have a pleasant stay."

B'Elanna gathered her daughter's belongings in the arm that wasn't presently filled with a slumbering Miral and she tapped the Doctor lightly on his foot with her own shoe to gain his attention.

The Doctor's dark eyes had something akin to confusion in them and then cleared as he realized why he had been taken out of his musings when he saw that the passengers had all risen out of their seats as they awaited departure from the shuttle. He had been replaying the words that his Captain had spoken on his behalf that had first assured him fully that she indeed thought of him as an equal member of her crew. It had been ironically after he had painted a less than flattering picture of his crewmates and his experiences onboard _Voyager_ despite the fact that he had only meant to use his crewmates' physical parameters as a starting off point.

_Our definition of what constitutes a person has continued to evolve. Now we're asking that you expand that definition once more, to include our Doctor. When I met him seven years ago, I would never have believed that an EMH could become a valued member of my crew, and my friend. The Doctor is a person as real as any flesh and blood I have ever known. If you believe the testimony you've heard here, it's only fair to conclude that he has the same rights as any of us._

"B'Elanna?" The Doctor's hand rested lightly on the dark brown curls of his goddaughter's as he looked sadly upon her. He had wanted to take a trip to San Francisco with the little girl, but this hadn't been what he had in mind. He turned his eyes to the woman he had addressed for the first time since they boarded the shuttle to Earth. "What're we going to do without her?"

"I wish I knew, Doctor." B'Elanna followed the flow of exiting people as she hugged her daughter close to her. "Could you imagine if she saw us now… wallowing in self-pity? If she could see how lost we are without her I wonder if she'd be disappointed in us."

"B'Elanna?" The Doctor's voice sounded hurt and confused.

"I, I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm just so—so angry. And there's really no one I can take it out on, except you I guess. Lucky you, huh?" B'Elanna tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace.

"She wouldn't be disappointed in us." The Doctor hadn't heard the apology as he thought about how the Captain, the Admiral, would think of them in this moment of tragic lost. "She would understand, she would be comforting, sympathetic. But never disappointed."

"How can you be so sure?" B'Elanna most definitely was not.

The destruction she had brought upon the small office at the Jupiter Station had been her initial reaction. She doubted very much that Janeway would have approved of that. B'Elanna hadn't even approved of her actions later when she had come to her senses. Though her apology had been given it had not been taken. Instead Doctor Zimmerman had simply said that Haley had wanted to redecorate anyway.

"Because I know Kathryn Janeway well enough to be sure, and so do you." The Doctor looked pointedly at the Lieutenant Commander. "What do you truly believe she would feel if she could see us now, Commander?"

B'Elanna stopped short of answering the Doctor's question as she spotted familiar faces, somber as they were, awaiting their arrival at one of the hover car rental alcoves. The lot of them were dressed in the gray and black uniforms of Starfleet officers: a Captain, a commander, a lieutenant commander, and a lieutenant stood together as a united front.

B'Elanna then turned to the hologram that wore the same number of pips as she. It had been a commission that the Admiral who had bestowed it upon the EMH over a year ago had stated in her husky tones "long overdue" as she had smiled proudly, brightly, dark blue eyes had shimmered as her delicate and sure hands had fastened the pips to the collar of an absolutely bursting at the seams hologram. B'Elanna knew exactly how that same Admiral would feel now if she looked upon the group of Starfleet officers who had served her with unwavering loyalty and devotion for over seven years.

"Proud, Doctor. She would be proud."

CHAPTER 7

Over the next few hours, hundreds of individuals received both personal and official notification of the death of Admiral Kathryn Janeway.

On Earth, in San Francisco, a gray haired man fell heavily into the arms of the woman who was to be his mother-in-law and is allowed to weep for the childhood friend he had always loved.

At Starfleet Academy, a well respected expert on artificial interspatial flexures used to transmit communications interquadrantly was intercepted after his class by his adopted family to be told of the passing of their matriarch and even in his grief he felt comforted by the others around him like he had never felt before.

On the _USS Archer_, a mother and her daughter are contacted by the latter's best friend. They detected immediately this was not a happy call. And long after the screen turned to black, the two women shook with grief and cried out at the injustice of the universe for having taken such a person from it.

At the Daystrom Institute of Technology, a young Starfleet Academy student was interrupted in his work study program by his mentor and constant guide to humanity and was told somberly that her guide, her mentor, her friend had been taken from them by a force only the two of them could fully understand.

On Orion I, a student of cosmology dropped a PADD containing his life's pursuit disproving a theory of multiple big bangs forgotten at his feet as he read of the news that the woman who had been his biggest defender against formal charges regarding the death of a dark matter entity was no more.

At the McKinley Station, two friends were called away from their work on redesigning escape pods to be more efficient and comfortable to receive notice that the woman who had instilled confidence and trust in themselves and each other on a supposedly routine away mission all those years ago had died as only she could, heroically.

And thirty thousand light years away in a different quadrant of the galaxy, a man was seated with his wife and adopted son as he was told the news of a woman's death through the impersonal means of a recording. His reaction had been one of disbelief at first, that this couldn't possibly be true, but he knew that the young woman who had the unfortunate task of informing him of such tragedy would not say such a thing unless absolutely certain. His son comforted him with a hearty, prolonged hug and his wife, whose belly was full with child, mingled her tears with his. She had not known the woman who had died well, but she was eternally grateful to her because of the safety she had helped secure and the wonderful man she had allowed her to have in her life forever.

Years later, they would tell their child, named not a Talaxian name but a human name, stories about the woman for whom she had been named. The child would learn that there had been a brave, wise, compassionate woman who had sailed through the dangerous quadrant with a small ship and a mismatched crew and because she was strong and true she had brought her crew home. And though the child's father had never spoken the name to the woman directly, it would remain a name of great honor and respect for generations to come.

"On November 27th, 2380, Admiral Kathryn Janeway of Starfleet Command, acting chairperson to Starfleet Intelligence, and the renowned and commemorated former Captain of the _USS Voyager_, who on May 23rd, 2378 brought her ship and crew home against impossible odds from the Delta Quadrant, has died at the age of forty-five while defending the Earth from the Borg attack that ended in the implosion of the Borg cube. She was survived by her mother, Gretchen Janeway, and her sister, Phoebe Janeway. The memorial service will be held on December 1st at 1 P.M. Pacific coast Earth time at the presidio in San Francisco."

The people around the quadrant who watched in stillness at the news feed regarding the famous former Captain of the lost ship _Voyager_ were now shown a clip of the woman in question at the first press conference held after her ship had returned home.

She had an undeniably powerful presence that held one mesmerized by her energy, her strength, her intelligent blue eyes, her bright smile, and her throaty voice that bespoke a woman of great authority and greater warmth. She had rested a small, delicate hand on her upper chest as her emotions rose with each word she had spoken as she exalted her crew with words of how brave, how compassionate, how strong they had been in the face of such adversity.

She had spoken of the community, the family that had emerged from years of being together, the bonds that were now unbreakable, and the incredible journey they had gone on together. How the steadfast crew had served her well and how she had hoped that she had been able to serve them with the same determination and distinction.

She had been many things in those moments: proud, emotional, grateful, gracious, and above all she had been captivating to behold. She had become, perhaps reluctantly, a celebrity overnight and now, despite being gone, would remain in the hearts, the minds, the imagination of many, many individuals, their children, their grandchildren, and so on because she had been…

"… the people's Admiral."

CHAPTER 8

_Indiana_

The _Delta Flyer III _hovered above the spacious grounds of the Janeway homestead as the passengers within looked upon the childhood home of their late and great former Captain. Though no one aboard the craft had ever actually seen the farm for themselves they had heard numerous stories about it that had lent it a simple, yet magical air most likely due to how their Captain's voice had always lightened to a softness rarely displayed and how they had been able to detect only the tiniest amount of moisture gathered in her blue eyes when she had spoken about the place she had called home for seventeen years.

Captain Chakotay gazed out of the transparent aluminum window with moist, dark eyes as he thought about the woman who had been a child here, he knew a happy one. Over the course of their relationship, she had told him a number of stories of how much she had loved her home in Indiana: the open space, the smell of the fertile soil and how she had adored running through the cornfields with her dog laughing heartily all the while. He wondered with a sad smile how many memories this place held of the woman he had loved intently for so many years.

"Tom," Chakotay's voice was gentle, a bit rough with emotion, but strong. "Set us down."

The _Delta Flyer III _settled gently and with ease onto the expansive lawn several meters from the well-worn farmhouse.

"Um, I don't think we're allowed to land here." Harry knew very little about agricultural farms such as this one, but what he did know was that technology such as the shuttle they were currently on was certainly not allowed within the boundaries of this traditionalist community.

Tom Paris disengaged the artificial gravity plating beneath his latest creation before he looked at his friend seated next to him and shrugged in the seemingly innocent, nonchalant, and cocky way that only he was truly capable of. "Mrs. Janeway said if anyone gave us any trouble we should tell the guy to either shut up or to take it up with her."

The assumed response from objectors to their landing here would then be to let it slide since Gretchen Janeway was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Tom had to smile at the thought of the silver haired woman.

Aside from Jarem Kaz who hadn't yet had the privilege, they had all initially met their Captain's mother at the first welcome home party after _Voyager_ had arrived quite unexpectedly on Earth's doorstep. It had first astonished and then amused them to find that their commanding officer's mother had given many traits to her oldest daughter. They had shared the same voice inflections, mannerisms such as talking with their hands and putting those same delicately boned hands onto their hips, and the same charismatic yet commanding presence. And thus they had been captivated by the woman who had given birth and raised their stalwart Captain who had seemed to grow younger by the second in the presence of her mother and younger sister. Exasperated "mother's" and "Phoebe's" had followed each charming but perhaps embarrassing story about the Kathryn Janeway the two women had known as they had spoken excitedly to the enthralled crew. Tom suddenly grew grim as he thought no light-hearted stories would be told this late evening, this was after all not a welcome home party.

Harry Kim also pictured the woman in question, Gretchen Janeway, and how upon first seeing her at their homecoming it had been readily apparent that she was the mother of his Captain. He tried not to think about how the similarities between the two women would affect him now. His own comfort was not what was important. Honoring the Captain, the Admiral, that was their purpose.

"Addy Janey's home?" Miral hugged her mother's neck as she snuggled close. Her ridged brow pressed against her mother's cheek as she curiously peered out the window.

"That's right. This is where your godmother grew up." B'Elanna placed soft kisses on her daughter's forehead as she tried to keep her voice strong and sure.

Having had to tell Miral that her adored godmother had been killed in glorious battle had been the hardest thing B'Elanna had ever had to do in her life. And though the little girl hadn't known what that had meant entirely, she had enough knowledge gained from her parents' expressions and tears that she had also cried. Once Miral had calmed down to the point that only sniffling had remained she had been told that she would not be able to see her "Addy Janey" again, that she was in Sto-Vo-Kor because that was where great warriors went, and that she had loved Miral very much. Miral had nodded her understanding then, but had vehemently informed her parents that she had wished to see her godmother just once more, to say goodbye and to tell her that she loved her too. After this proclamation more tears had been shed and Miral had found herself in a tight hug between both her parents. Then they had told her then that they too wished for the same thing, but to not to worry, they had promised Miral that her Addy Janey knew how much her little warrior had loved her. And that had satisfied the little girl.

"Have you ever been here, Seven?" The Doctor looked nervously out the window as he wondered what the locals would think of him. He then looked at the woman seated next to him and reconsidered his nervousness as he wondered what the locals would think of her since her technological advancement was more readily apparent.

"No." Seven's one word, clipped response was her attempt to hide the disappointment and regret she felt that she had never been to the childhood home of Kathryn Janeway.

_When we get to Earth I'll take you there.  
_

It had been one of the few times that Seven could recall that Captain Janeway had not lived up to her words. Seven was fully aware that Admiral Janeway's time had been devoted to assisting the Federation to strengthen after the Dominion War, to handle conflicts between the many civilizations within the Federation purview, not to mention the Admiral's own hands on approach to everything from vessel refits and diplomatic ceremonies. If it hadn't been for the Admiral's intervention and the assistance of Harry Kim and Jarem Kaz, Seven and Icheb would have perished due to regeneration deprivation while the two of them had been incarcerated when a Borg virus had infected many on Earth. And if it hadn't been for the _Voyager_ crew that virus and the corrupt Admiral who had wanted to be the Borg Queen would have surely been victorious. These were the events that had occupied Admiral Janeway's time. Seven had known this, but that hadn't stopped her from wanting to see Bloomington, Indiana for herself, and she had wanted to be with Kathryn Janeway when she had. Seven had thought that if she could see where her former Captain had grown, she would have a better understanding of who that child had matured into. Seven contemplated the idea that perhaps she still would have that chance.

"Neither have I. It looks pleasant enough." The Doctor tried to smile reassuringly to Seven perhaps more for his benefit than hers since she looked as impassive as ever, though he suspected she was just as apprehensive as he.

They were about to converge on the home of a woman who had just lost her daughter and another who had lost her sister. There was simply no way to prepare for such an encounter. Especially since heavy feelings of guilt had grown in each of them as they had made their journey from California to Indiana. Many had felt that they should have been there with the woman who had brought them home safely, to defend her, to fight alongside her, and to die with her. Now all they could do was grieve for her and to remember the woman they had all loved.

"Indeed." Seven looked around the cabin and noted how no one had stood from their seats yet, unease written on everyone's expression. Only Jarem Kaz looked particularly confused regarding everyone's hesitation that had led to his own.

The silence in the cabin that had transfixed all those in it was suddenly and quite noisily interrupted by a hand banging repeatedly on metal.

"Uh, guys?" Harry watched the white haired woman on the view screen as she continued to strike the hull of their vessel before he turned in his seat to regard his shipmates with nervousness in his eyes. "We should probably disembark now."

"Hey, Harry, how about you be the one to tell her to either shut up or talk to Mrs. Janeway, huh?" Tom had emerged from the pilot's seat and patted Harry on the shoulder in encouragement.

Harry Kim blanched at the very thought of him telling an elderly lady to shut up. "Uh, I'm sure she's just… curious about us, that's all."

Tom and Harry were the last to depart from the ship through its aft section onto the grassy lawn upon which they encountered what the others who had gone before them had. A sturdy looking woman, stout with age, with a halo of snowy white hair brushed away from her broad, strong features wrinkled deeply from time. She was garbed in almost garish colors of red and green and orange and purple, but somehow pulled off the draped ensemble with ease, though perhaps not elegantly, but definitely confidently as if she didn't particular care what the people lined up in front of the landed vessel thought of her. Piercing gray eyes took in the group clad in Starfleet dress uniforms of white tunics and black pants with skepticism. She pursed lips that seemed to indicate she had just eaten something decidedly distasteful made the group think that perhaps they should care what this woman thought of them. And then with an inelegant snort she addressed them.

"Ugh, you all look like you're heading to one of those stuffy Federation dinner parties… and you're the caterers." Her voice held just the faintest hint of an accent; one in which they had heard much stronger versions of in Tom Paris' "Fair Haven" program.

After they had looked at one another uncomfortably, since her observation had been a somewhat accurate description of their new dress whites, the snowy haired woman did something that made them all take notice… she smirked, a lop-sided grin that each and every one of them recognized as the prototype of a grin they had seen far too often or perhaps not enough. It was a grin of humor, mischievousness, and utter arrogance. This was certainly a Janeway.

"Ma'am, I'm Captain Chakotay and I—" The proffered hand was waved away as the woman shook her head and held up her hands in order to forestall any more words, a multitude of golden bangles clanked noisily together at her wrists.

"Now, now, don't you all go around 'ma'aming' me, I won't stand for it. Makes me feel old. I'm Martha Janeway, but just call me Marti." Another crooked grin. "And I won't stand for those pesky ranks here either, understood?"

The woman's words had been said with a light, teasing tone but something about her made them take her orders to heart. And then she had surprised them again by moving more quickly than they ever expected her to be able to at her age and immense build as she gathered a rather flabbergasted Chakotay into a tightly held hug.

"Oh, my dear boy, a terrible, terrible loss for us all, our little Kathryn… gone. But at least you're all here. Her friends, yes? Good, good. We'll celebrate our little Katie-bug tonight in true Janeway fashion." Tears had fallen from her eyes as she continued the hug. And then just as abruptly as it had begun she pulled out of the embrace to wipe away her tears and to laugh a short little bark at herself. "Look at me going on and on. Well, come inside, it's getting chilly out here, no? This Indiana weather. People wonder why I moved. Can't stand it. Give me hot, sunny days all year round. Remember to secure your ship. You can never be too careful these days. That's what I say. I wish it weren't true, but we live in different times now. Back when I was your age you used to be able to leave your ship anywhere you pleased without any worry some… robber would run off with it. Now," she patted her left hip. "I don't go anywhere without my phaser."

The older woman had gotten almost halfway to the house before she noticed she had been walking alone. She turned impatiently around and motioned with both her hands, somewhat frantically, to the group of people who looked to her like a bunch of fish out of water with their mouths agape and eyes wide. What was their problem, she wondered to herself.

"What's your problem? Come on now, pick up the pace." She nodded in satisfaction as finally the lot were taken out of their trances and walked steadily to her stationary location. When they had finally reached her she took up the lead again in quick, lumbering strides. "We have much, much to do. First things first though, take those god awful uniforms off, they hurt my eyes, you see. But nothing black, dreadfully dull and morbid that color. Our little Katie-bug was anything but dull, you know. She was so vibrant and full of life. When she'd come visit me it would take all my energy to make sure she wasn't falling out of trees or whatnot. Don't forget to wipe your feet I don't want you tracking mud all over the place, understand."

The porch steps creaked soundly under the weight of the corpulent woman who led the way to the front door before she turned quickly around to freeze them with narrowed gray eyes. "Now I know all you youngsters are used to replicated food, but that's just not allowed here, so mind your manners, all right. My sister-in-law prides herself in making all of her food from scratch. I don't understand it myself, seems a rather slow way to go about feeding yourself, but it's not really my place to say anything. And I hope you all have strong stomachs because I brought many, many treats along with me. Well, what are you waiting for? Come in, come in. We don't have all day for you to be gawking like catfish, do we?"

"Why do I feel like we've just gone through a level eight ion storm?" Tom had whispered the words to his wife who held their daughter in her strong arms, but his words had been overheard and the white haired woman looked pointedly at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Now, young man, just because I'm old doesn't mean I don't have fine hearing, you see." The white haired woman snorted as she took in the blonde haired man's blush. "The cute ones always think they can get away with anything."

A few coughs and suppressed laughs accompanied the deeper reddening of the Commander's face as he tried desperately to apologize, for what he really didn't know.

The white haired woman suddenly barked out a loud laugh and waved off his apology. She held the front door open as she motioned with a hand towards the opening. "Come on now, in you go. Don't forget about those dirty shoes."

Obediently upon entering, they all wiped their feet diligently on the rug that read "Welcome". A bombardment of delicious smells assailed their senses as they moved from the foyer down a long hallway until they reached a large study where the white haired woman instructed them to settle their things and to "get out of those god-awful straight-jackets" before they were to enter the kitchen where the two other Janeway women were presently. With no time to change out of their uniforms entirely before they were to meet their former Captain's mother and sister, they had opted to remove their uniform jackets and pulled on easy to get to tunics from their suitcases over their gray undershirts in hopes that would appease this rather bombastic woman. It didn't really seem to, but she didn't appear to be displeased with them either. They were satisfied with that.

They followed like little chicks behind a great mother hen as the old woman led them back down the long hallway, through the dining room and to the double doors of the kitchen which she pushed in with little effort. She walked into the kitchen with flourish and a proclamation that "Katie-bug's crew finally made it", but the rest stood frozen just inside as they came face to face with the two women who reminded them close to painfully of the woman they had loved, the Admiral they had lost, and the Captain they would forever miss.

Seven had never before encountered an individual with the type of speech pattern as the woman who had referred to herself by the designation of "Marti". The order of the words seemed chaotic and only efficient in the speed that they left the woman's mouth. And yet Seven had managed to follow what the woman had been saying with ease. The woman seemed a paradox to Seven. Marti could move swiftly though it was with uneasy lumbering movements, her voice was light in tone, but loud in volume and laced with the low tones of sympathy and sadness, and most intriguing was that she made Seven feel nervous while still feeling comforted. Marti was a curiosity. So as Seven removed her uniform jacket in preparation for the dark blue tunic she had so recently taken out of her suitcase she observed the woman as covertly as she could, which must not have been enough for Marti looked at her pointedly before she approached an apprehensive Seven.

"My dear girl," Marti looked upon Seven with curious, sympathetic gray eyes as she rested a soft, wrinkled hand on Seven's wrist which was laced with metal. "Have you been in some sort of accident?"

The voice had been quiet enough, but Seven detected a few eyes on her including the worried ones of the Doctor. Nervousness shot through her thin frame, but Seven hid it, buried it deep, so she stood tall with her chin tipped up as she spoke in clear, even tones. "No, I was not in an accident. Kathryn Janeway rescued me from the Borg six years ago."

For a moment the gregarious old woman seemed speechless, but that was not meant to be. She let out an astonished laugh before she hugged Seven to her plump body. "Of course, of course, you're Seven of Nine! My little Katie told me a bit about you. She said you were a wonderful person. Smart, brave, honorable. She didn't, however, mention what a looker you are."

Seven could feel her chest warm by the words that her former Captain had spoken to the white haired woman. Though her metallic encased eyebrow did rise at the last statement. "What is… 'a looker'?"

"Oh, my Katie was right, you are wonderful." Marti handed Seven the dark blue tunic before she winked at her. "If I was sixty years younger, you'd be in trouble."

"I would be?" Seven pulled the thick tunic over her gray undershirt as she watched the woman walk away to approach Miral and her parents.

The Doctor had watched the exchange with large dark eyes, and only when the white haired woman departed did he make his approach. He had heard and could see Seven's confusion as to what had just transpired and he was charmed by it. "She meant that you're a very attractive woman, Seven, and that if she was your age she'd try to have a romantic relationship with you."

"Indeed." Seven rarely if ever blushed, but the warmth in her cheeks indicated that this was one of those rare times.

"All right, now that you're all at least half-way presentable, follow me." The white haired, rotund woman hadn't waited to see if anyone had followed as she seemed to just assume that they would as she walked sturdily down the long hallway, through a dining room that was casual and well-used, and then to two thin wooden doors that the woman pressed her hands against to allow entry.

"Katie-bug's crew finally made it." The woman was barely within the kitchen before her proclamation had ringed out and the people behind her seemed instantly paralyzed by the women within.

Something akin to fear washed over Seven in a cold wave as she watched the two women as they almost simultaneously shifted their attentions away from food preparation to look upon the assembled crew.

At the gray marble topped island in the middle of the large old fashioned kitchen, Phoebe had dropped her small knife next to the half diced up carrots on the cutting board before she wiped her hands on a nearby towel and stood from the kitchen stool. The willowy frame of the dark red haired woman seemed tense beneath the simple, loose fitting dark green dress she wore; her blues eyes were alight with something that bespoke danger, a warning.

A few feet away from her youngest daughter, Gretchen Janeway settled the recently baked bread onto a cooling rack before she too wiped her hands clean utilizing her floral printed apron which she soon pulled off to let settle on top of a nearby counter. The petite silver haired woman brought her thin arms around herself as if cold, unlike her daughter, the dark blue eyes of a woman known by many for her warmth were dull and she looked exhausted and though still an elegant and lovely woman, she looked all of her seventy-one years.

Seven could sense through the elevated heart rates that an acute anxiousness settled over the Starfleet officers as the two women looked evenly at them for what seemed like a very long moment. And finally the tense silence was broken as Gretchen Janeway's lips curved into a small sad smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I know that we would have all liked to have seen each other under much better circumstances, but that apparently wasn't meant to be. I'm glad that you could come. It… feels right that you should be here. Kathryn's family."

Gretchen Janeway wasn't the energetic woman Seven remembered, but the older woman still had the same graciousness, the same warmth, and air of ageless wisdom and Seven felt comforted by it. And by the warm embrace that Seven was treated to by Mrs. Janeway before she offered the same welcome to the other Starfleet officers who in turn whispered their earnest condolences into her shiny silver hair as she nodded her head and gripped them a bit stronger.

If Gretchen Janeway felt put out by the stranger known as Jarem Kaz she didn't indicate it as she too embraced the man with her thin, but strong arms. There was a definite shimmering of barely contained tears in the kind blue eyes of the Trill doctor as he looked upon the woman who had raised the extraordinary woman they had all gathered at the aged farmhouse to remember. He had been momentarily caught off guard when the petite woman had hugged him to her, but he had recovered quickly and reveled in the comfort he had found so easily in the arms of this woman. Even in the midst of the incredible pain this woman was no doubt feeling, she offered great solace to them.

Phoebe, unlike her mother, exuded an almost palpable energy, the younger sister of their former Captain had possessed the same when some had met her previously, but this time that energy wasn't friendly or bubbly, this time the energy bespoke anger, contained but perhaps just barely. The woman's bright blue eyes were narrowed as she glared at the collection of Starfleet officers whom she had felt had little place here, even though she knew rationally that her sister had considered them family. So it was with little surprise that she did not offer her arms for comfort, but instead crossed them over her chest and stood tensely next to the island.

Martha Janeway, who had poured herself a rather large amount of an amber colored liquid after she had entered the kitchen, could easily detect the tension that radiated off of her niece and so with one last finishing drink she took the dark red haired woman's arm into her hand and led her out of the room with a simple and light order. "Come now, Phoebes, let's get the living room ready, all right?"

Seven watched with purposefully concealed concern as the large, white haired woman hastily led Phoebe Janeway out of the kitchen with a swing of double wooden doors left in their wake. There had been something in Phoebe's blue eyes when they had rested upon her that had filled Seven with a feeling of shame and guilt. She wondered if Phoebe knew what the ex-drone's part had been in the destruction of Kathryn Janeway. And Seven felt an almost debilitating fear that the red haired woman knew full well. The hand that touched her shoulder startled Seven and a quiet, but noticeable sound of surprise emitted from her lips.

"Seven?" The Doctor's brow creased in worry as he let his arm drop to his side. If the Doctor didn't know the woman better he would have thought she was frightened of some unseen horror, he had never known her to be scared or insecure so he wondered at her distraction. "Are you all right?"

Too absorbed with thoughts of the Endgame virus, Seven hadn't noticed as individuals had left the fragrant kitchen, each had been loaded with food items to be carried into the expansive living room. She could discern that the Doctor was worried about her, but she did not feel deserving of such sentiments. How was she to tell the Doctor that the virus was still contained within her? The virus that had destroyed the Borg cube, that had killed Kathryn Janeway.

"We should join the others." Seven did what she had become quite accomplished at doing; she buried her emotions and brought an impassive mask to her narrow features.

_Thank you, Seven. _

Seven's gait had almost faltered when the voice of her former Captain had sounded in her mind. Those words had echoed frequently the last several hours. She feared that it would be a constant phenomenon, to have to hear the last three words that the beloved woman would ever utter. Seven also feared that it wouldn't be.

"Come now, Phoebes, let's get the living room ready, all right?"

Phoebe felt her aunt's insistence in the hand that grasped her arm, and as she had when she was a child she obeyed the woman's wishes. Although her almost forced exit had not deterred her from shooting one last pointed look mixed with betrayal, disgust, and fury at the gathered Starfleet officers and one blonde haired woman in particular.

Phoebe Janeway had been utterly fascinated by the former Borg woman her older sister had introduced her mother and her to at the homecoming celebration. A striking woman with golden hair and icy blue eyes, narrow but attractive features with full lips that rarely showed the woman's emotions, but a formfitting suit that left little to the imagination had been presented to Phoebe that day. The visible metallic implants that adorned the woman's face and hand displayed what the woman had gone through and Phoebe had felt an overwhelming sense of sympathy.

The letters she had received from her older sister had depicted this… Seven of Nine as supremely intelligent, selfless, strong-willed, caring, and with a burgeoning sense of humor that at times seemed misplaced but always enjoyable. Phoebe had detected a hint of something in her sister's voice when she had spoken of Seven that went beyond the overt tones of pride, admiration, and friendly affection. There had been an extreme lightness, a wistfulness that bespoke a woman who held the woman she spoke of as quite important and dear to her, someone she loved immensely. Phoebe had wondered at that and had even went as far as to needle her sister about it but her needling had been rebuffed quickly and severely by a rather long-winded and stern lecture about appropriateness, moral integrity, and an unrelenting denouncement of Phoebe's maturity level. Being quite accustomed to her sister's prim and proper ways, Phoebe had not been too put out but she had stopped her teasing.

What Phoebe hadn't expected upon meeting _the_ Seven of Nine was how the almost Vulcan like woman lost her impassive expression that almost seemed plastered on when she had stood next to her Captain and had been introduced to Phoebe and Gretchen. Phoebe was a master at detecting the nuances of emotions displayed on faces and through body language and what she had seen in Seven at that moment had told her much about the young woman and about her sister.

Seven had stood slightly behind her Captain in what Phoebe had considered a protective stance. Who or what Seven had thought her Captain had needed to be guarded against Phoebe hadn't a clue. But there it was, as if Seven had been the sole protector of her charge, the Captain. Then the shifting of alert blue eyes had ended abruptly when her older sister had laid a hand on Seven's upper arm and those icy eyes had warmed perceptibly as she looked upon the Captain with what Phoebe later decided was deeply held devotion. Phoebe had seen similar expressions upon many of the others, who had been a part of _Voyager's_ crew, but this look had definitely made Phoebe take note and with little surprise her mother had also picked up on it. During their transport back to the Janeway farm, the two women had spoken quite seriously about what they had both seen, but neither had been able to draw any irrefutable conclusions.

Seven's affectionate expression had contained nothing as base as lust or longing when she had looked upon her Captain. It had been an expression riddled with complexity and beautiful in its simplicity. Seven of Nine loved her Captain, unconditionally. It seemed such an absolute as to be fact. A woman who had lost her humanity at only six years of age only to be thrust back into it eighteen years later had, over the course of four years, found it again in the woman who had given it back to her mercilessly. And that four year journey, Phoebe had been fully aware of, had not always gone smoothly.

Phoebe had been driven to tears by some of the tales of the heated disagreements between Seven and the Captain through her sister's correspondence. Phoebe knew full well how stubborn her sister could be and if this Seven person had managed to break through that inflexibility, good for her. That was always what Phoebe had always thought would be good for her older sister, someone who could challenge her. Not many were capable of the feat, but this Seven of Nine had seemed more than accomplished at the task.

The look of acute nervousness that had settled upon Seven's features when she had been introduced to the two Janeway women also relayed significant information to Phoebe. Seven hadn't seemed entirely nervous or even interested when she had been greeted by many of he other crewmember's families, but when she had been presented with Phoebe and Gretchen that had clearly changed. It hadn't been a demonstrative display, but it had been obvious to Phoebe and she had tried to be less energetic or what her sister had referred to as "obnoxious". Although that had not stopped her from the warm hug she had given Seven after Gretchen Janeway had allowed Seven release from her own.

But now in her childhood home as she absently and noisily placed a basket of clanking silverware on a long wooden table clothed in white cotton, Phoebe felt no inclination or desire to hug Seven of Nine. In fact it had taken a considerable and drawn out lecture, a few warnings, and finally a plea on behalf of what Kathryn would have wanted from her barely contained mother to convince Phoebe that a physical altercation with Seven would not only be unwise, unhelpful, and uncouth but would also have disappointed Kathryn immensely. Phoebe had ultimately relented to her mother's wishes and had promised to rein in her anger as best she could. Phoebe's fury at the woman who she had thought loved her sister so greatly, so purely, and yet had not saved her, in fact had been the implement in which her sister had been killed, was settled at the pit of her stomach in a hot and heavy mass. No, Phoebe's cheeks flushed with her rising temper, she had no desire to hug that… that _Borg_.

The fragrant smells of pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, steamed assorted vegetables, fresh baked bread, vegetable biryani, and a number of other aromatic food items suffused the air of the wood enfolded living room of the Janeway homestead as a steady stream of long distance and extended relatives, neighbors, childhood friends and teachers of Kathryn Janeway tried to bestow their greatest sympathies to all present, especially onto Gretchen and Phoebe.

The silver haired matriarch received the solemn compassionate words with soft words of gratitude and even softer smiles of appreciation. Gretchen knew that those who came to her home this evening were there to pay their respects to the woman they had all known at one time or another, one form or another, and she did appreciate the sentiments but a part of her was annoyed to have to offer words of comfort to these visitors.

Gretchen would always nod in agreement at every accolade said to her regarding Kathryn. If truth be told it was getting a bit redundant and disingenuous to hear these people talk of her daughter as if they had even known her for the past decade, perhaps even more time than that. Gretchen shook off the uncharitable thoughts and chalked it up to fatigue. She was aware that she was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but people needed this time, Phoebe needed this time, to come to terms with the death of Kathryn before the funeral and more importantly, before the memorial service in San Francisco that was sure to be filled to the brim by the highest of Starfleet brass speaking words that seemed so well rehearsed to be completely and utterly inane.

"Here, dear, you look like you might need this."

Gretchen's attention was taken away from the woman who had been Kathryn's tennis coach all those years ago to Martha Janeway, her late husband's rather gregarious, sometimes obnoxious, older sister and she smiled. The first true smile she had presented in the last hour or so. Martha placed a small glass tumbler filled with a strong smelling gold colored liquid in her hand and she accepted it hesitantly. In the last hour, in true Irish tradition, many toasts were made in Kathryn's name and Gretchen wasn't entirely sure that a strong drink was what she really needed. Martha obviously thought otherwise.

The two Janeway women had not always been in agreement about a great many things; child-rearing and marriage just among the many subjects, but Gretchen knew how Martha had so greatly adored her daughters and Kathryn especially. Phoebe had never had the patience or calm for Martha Janeway's usually lengthy tales about the great and honorable ancestry of the Janeway name, but Kathryn had always sat in rapt attention when her aunt had relayed story after story. Kathryn had always been especially and deeply enthralled with any story that contained the illustrious Shannon O'Donnell Janeway and the Millennium Gate.

Gretchen thought about the hesitant way her oldest daughter had carefully and regretfully informed her aunt that Shannon O'Donnell had not in fact been the enterprising woman Martha had thought she had been. To Kathryn's great shock, her Aunt Martha had simply smiled and told her niece that stories shouldn't be overburdened by facts.

When she had been informed of the death of Kathryn, Martha had taken the first transport from Cuba to Indiana almost before the communication between her and Gretchen had been disconnected. And now, for the last several hours, Martha had been a source of strength and comfort for Gretchen and she was thankful for that. Despite her rather taciturn nature, Martha had a steady strength that Gretchen held onto for support. And, most importantly, Martha kept reminding her of how Kathryn wouldn't want grief and sorrow in her honor, but love, remembrance, and humor. And family.

Family… which brought Gretchen to the consideration of the small group of Starfleet officers who she knew without looking stood awkwardly around as people who they could not know asked how they had known Kathryn. "We were part of her crew" would be the resounding answer. Gretchen knew full well that they were more than that. Seven years together had created a bond between the senior officers onboard _Voyager_ that was unbreakable, even in death.

Kathryn hadn't spoken much about herself during those seven years, but she had regaled Gretchen and Phoebe with numerous stories about her crew; some were quite harrowing, others hilarious, and all were said with a great deal of emotion. It was through those stories that the two women had been able to acquaint themselves with this new Kathryn, one they recognized, but still didn't fully know. Seven long years always being the Captain had changed Kathryn. She had become more relaxed within her own commanding presence and unrelenting energy, but had also seemed constantly alert as if an unforeseen danger was always looming on the horizon, a woman who had hardened somewhat but at the same time had allowed her subordinates closer to her heart than any other.

When Gretchen had first seen her eldest daughter disembark and enter the throng of families, she had barely recognized the self-contained and authoritative woman who had walked towards her and Phoebe, but then Kathryn had smiled, Gretchen had almost forgotten how bright that smile could be, how warm and loving, and then they had embraced one another and the tears were unsuccessfully kept at bay. And Gretchen knew she had finally been given her daughter back. That had been over two years ago, she was given only two years before her daughter was stolen from her again. Only this time, she would never get her back. And Gretchen felt sick at that reality.

"Gretchen, it isn't proper to let an old woman to drink alone."

Martha's teasing voice brought Gretchen out of her thoughts before she brought the glass to her lips and imbibed a small amount of the cool liquid that heated her throat on the way to her stomach. The coldness that had been a formed and heavy mass thawed when the drink settled and Gretchen leaned in to the ample warmth of her sister-in-law. Gretchen held onto one of Martha's hands with her own and moved them towards the kitchen, away from the people gathered.

"You just say the word and I'll hustle people out." Martha's voice was serious and entreating and Gretchen had to smile at the tone.

"No, no, we're not the only ones who… who loved Kathryn, they need this time as well." As the words escaped her quietly, Gretchen knew that she too needed this time. She had made herself be the strong one, the one to support her daughter, Kathryn's crew, everyone… but perhaps that wasn't what she needed to be now. And as she felt the arms of her sister-in-law enfold her petite form, Gretchen allowed the tears of anguish and loss to fall once again.

Seven could not think of a time in her life when she had felt more uneasy in a crowd than she did at this very moment. Many eyes had fallen on her in the last seventy-four minutes; curious mostly and some fearful, but the stares had all been averted quickly to the mother of Kathryn Janeway and Seven had been left mostly alone with her former crewmates.

The small group of Starfleet officers had sequestered themselves in a corner away from the food and near the fireplace. The eyes of the officers flitted sporadically towards the numerous photographs situated on top of the mantle for they had already examined the pictures studiously when they had first entered. But they still could not help when their gaze was drawn to the photos of their former commanding officer in her many guises and years of age.

A number of the pictures had elicited warm smiles, a few softly released chuckles, but mostly eyes that misted over with emotion. A few especially caught their attentions. One in particular displayed a rather plump image of their former Captain as a girl of about six with wavy flame red hair that fell about the well-worn leather jacket that contained a pair of gold wings pinned to the front. The child smiled so happily, so carelessly, her liberally freckled cheeks rounded fully with the grin. It was a grin that they thought they were fully aware of but they had never seen it so unburdened in all their time with their Captain and their hearts caught at the sight.

The other photograph which fascinated them had been taken much more recently. The newly appointed Admiral had been out of uniform when the picture had been taken, clad in a V-necked black sweater with her shoulder length auburn hair curled around her bare collarbones and a contemplative expression had made her look thoughtful, relaxed, and beautiful. The pale pallor of years in space had been replaced by a sun touched complexion and the freckles that had been numerous in childhood had reemerged more subtly but just as endearingly.

"It's not fair." Tom's voice was soft, gentler than was characteristic of the sometimes brash and frivolous man. "She got us all home and now… now she's gone."

B'Elanna held her slumbering daughter in one arm and her husband in the other as she nodded her head. She felt tears caused by a mixture of sorrow and anger form in her dark eyes. "I just wish the damned Collective would finally be gone for good."

"As do I." Seven's voice was hard and sincere, but she knew better than anyone how resilient the Borg were and she had her doubts that the Collective had been completely destroyed despite the great decimation caused by one determined woman.

Kathryn Janeway had bested the Borg against Species 8472, taken Seven of Nine from her Queen, stolen technology from a sphere, instigated a resistance movement within the Collective via her involvement with Unimatrix Zero, destroyed one of only six transwarp hubs, stopped an assimilation virus from sweeping Earth, and finally destroyed the most powerful vessel the Borg had ever devised. That much devastation, even the Borg couldn't recover from anytime soon.

"We should have been there." Harry's tone was low and held regret and admonishment. "_Voyager_ should have been there. Maybe we could have helped." .

The truth that if the _Voyager_ crew had been there with their former Captain, they would have most likely been assimilated as the _Einstein_ crew had been did not detract from the certainty in Harry Kim's voice. Somehow, they would have made it through, he had reasoned, they had been in worst spots than battling one lone Borg cube.

"I don't get it. She didn't even tell any of us she was planning on going to that damned cube. It wouldn't have been a problem; she wouldn't have even needed to ask." Tom took his slumbering daughter from his wife's arms as he welcomed the comfort of the small form. "We would have offered _Voyager_. Hell, she had the authority to requisition even the _Enterprise_."

Tom shared his best friend's belief that if _Voyager_ and her crew had been there, perhaps the Admiral wouldn't have been lost to them. With her trusted ship and steadfast crew, Admiral Janeway would have, as she had done so many times in the past, triumphed over the seemingly unbeatable opponent.

"It was something she had to do alone." Chakotay's voice was as sure as Harry's for he knew Kathryn Janeway and why she had gone to the cube with only a small vessel and an even smaller crew.

Kathryn had to face her demons. She had helped the Borg defeat Species 8472 in a war that would have led to the demise of the Collective, but at the time, she had thought it would have led to the destruction of the rest of the galaxy as well. She had made a deal with the devil and despite Chakotay knowing she would never openly admit to such vulnerability, it had affected her immensely. Assisting the resistance from Unimatrix Zero and destroying the hub had not only been her way of dealing blows against the Borg but also to repent for her assistance in their survival.

Most understood Chakotay's words, but it did not ease the feelings of guilt and the thoughts of "what ifs". Her crew should have been there, to save her or to die with her in defense against the Borg. Instead they had all been nestled safely in their respective places and only saw from afar the great threat that had been upon them, while their former Captain had been turned into a perverse and hideous parody of herself. Her body, her mind, perhaps her very soul had been twisted and mutilated, locked away and suffocated under the thoughts of billions, stripped and disfigured. She had been turned into the devil incarnate and the horrid being that had emerged had reveled in it. Only one of them had seen what Kathryn Janeway had been transformed into, but Seven had not spoken to any of them with much detail about what she had seen. Truthfully, they weren't fully prepared to ask and they had figured she wasn't prepared to tell.

The last true conversation Seven had participated in with Admiral Janeway filled her thoughts with the weighted and simple truth that Seven might have been capable of preventing the events that had led to Janeway's death.

They had been in the Admiral's office at Starfleet Command; Seven had completed her thorough analysis of the cube and had deemed it inert, dead, and as harmless as anything having to do with the Borg could ever be. Though Seven had no data to support her trepidation, when the Admiral had told her she intended to board the cube to further study it the former Borg drone had been disturbed by the prospect of her former Captain boarding even an inactive cube.

"You may want to consider waiting for a time, just to be certain." Seven's hands were clasped tightly together against her back as she held her chin up in an almost confrontational fashion, her voice had bordered on entreating.

Admiral Janeway leaned against the back of her chair as she appraised Seven with her piercing blue-gray gaze. Her voice was sincerely curious as she replied. "How long a time?"

Janeway watched Seven consider her question, she could almost see the thought processes like churning wheels behind the icy blue eyes of her former Astrometrics officer turned advisor and professor for Starfleet.

And when Seven replied it was with the utmost certainty, very close to commanding. "Ten years would be sufficient."

Janeway smirked, laughter barely restrained, as she nodded her head, amused, but also deeply touched at the protective stance Seven was obviously displaying. The Admiral's tone was lightly sardonic as she made her reply. "Are you suggesting that for the next ten years I shouldn't hesitate to send officers, scientists, and such to inspect the cube to their heart's content, but I personally should give it as much distance as possible?"

Seven either didn't pick up on the tone or chose not to as her response was quick and serious. "That sounds to me like the ideal strategy."

Again she was touched by the show of concern, Janeway's expression softened, but her voice held the steeliness of her authority as she questioned the young woman and wondered about her motives. "And what sort of message would that send?"

As she thought about the question posed to her, Seven's head tilted to one side while she maintained her eye contact with the seated woman before her. A woman she loved deeply, fully, guardedly. But as the truth came to her mind she spoke them earnestly as she was not accustomed to lying, especially to the Admiral. "I was not concerned about messages, merely about attending to your safety, to keeping you alive."

Admiral Janeway's eyes were more blue than gray as she smiled at the honesty in Seven's voice, but her eyes also held resolve. And once Kathryn Janeway's mind was set, nothing could deter it. Not even the concern of a woman she cared for immensely. She had to go to the cube. She had to see the Collective vanquished once and for all.

"Sometimes in order to feel alive, one has to take chances with one's safety." As the words escaped between her lips, Janeway wondered at them and knew they were the truth.

When was the last time she felt truly alive back here in Alpha Quadrant? Probably almost two years ago when the Borg virus had swept Earth and she and her former crew had defied Starfleet Command in order to save Seven, Icheb, and the Doctor and really Earth itself. As hard as it had been in the Delta Quadrant, Janeway missed the constant energizing quality traveling through the unknown always filled her with. How ironic that as a Captain of one of the smallest ships in the Fleet in an unexplored and often times dangerous quadrant she had felt more in control of her own destiny than as a high ranking Admiral in the heart of Starfleet and the Federation. She had been _the Captain_, the lone authority with the responsibility of more than a hundred people on her shoulders for so long that she had forgotten what it was like to just be Kathryn Janeway. She had feared that she simply could not just _be_ Kathryn, so she had immersed herself in her Admiralty and it had proven over the course of two years to be immensely… unsatisfying. But Janeway knew what was making her so restless, she missed being at the helm of a starship, doing what she had set out to do from the very beginning of her studies at the Academy. To explore, to discover, to seek out. The added sense of danger the unexplored offered her was also lost to her as she went through the sometimes interesting but usually tedious tasks of being an Admiral. She needed to feel that danger again, even if it was more imaginary than anything else since the cube was about as dangerous as a piece of space rock.

Seven apparently didn't agree because her icy blue eyes narrowed as her voice became that tone Janeway had heard many times before. The tone that seemed to say "Captain, you are being unwise in your decision making." It was the tone that made Janeway even more determined to have it her way. The voice held something else that Janeway couldn't readily identify but it seemed an odd mixture of regret and resignation. "No. One really does not."

Seven was brought out of her remembrance by Chakotay's somber voice. "It was something she had to do alone."

"She was not alone." Seven's voice rose as it filled with self-castigation, remorse, and disgust. "I was there."

Seven felt the tears spring to her right eye and she rushed away from her former crewmates before she moved swiftly through the crowd as she heard voices call her name in concern.

How could they understand that it was Seven who could have stopped the Admiral from going to the cube by stating that it was unsafe despite the data to the contrary, or that she could have asked to accompany the Admiral onto the cube and probably would have been allowed due to her expertise and familiarity, that she could have been with the Admiral even after assimilation and been with her forever. How could they understand the loneliness that she had discovered within her Admiral when they had met on the mental plane of the Hive mind, how she had felt within herself the anguish and strength that allowed the Admiral to overcome her imprisonment within the Borg Queen, how Seven had been with her former Captain when she had died as she uttered three simple words filled with more complex emotions than Seven could easily identify. But she knew what one of the feelings was and it had filled Seven with an overwhelming sense of despair and joy and endless regret.

_Thank you, Seven._

And with those three words, Seven had known, and did know, her Captain, her Admiral, her friend, her counsel, her mentor, her constant guide and inspiration to regaining her humanity had also been… her great love.

"Don't you think one of us should go after her?" The Doctor's holographic arm had been clasped tightly by B'Elanna's who forestalled his movement as she shook her head.

"If she wanted to talk to us, she wouldn't have run off like that." B'Elanna and Seven were not the best of friends, but the half-Klingon was perceptive enough to know that what Seven needed now was not the Doctor or anyone else trying to either cheer her up or sympathize with her.

B'Elanna knew what it was like to lose someone close to her, but even more so, to be the cause of that loss. Nearly two years ago, her mother, Miral, had died in her arms from a knife wound that B'Elanna herself had inflicted in order to maintain Miral's honor and to stop the suffering that her mother hadn't wanted to endure in front of her daughter. There were times when B'Elanna could still feel the warm sickening dampness of her mother's blood on her hands. She figured Seven, having to be the carrier for the virus that had destroyed the cube and its Queen, felt similarly.

"I think B'Elanna's right, Doctor." Jarem Kaz's kind blue eyes looked off to where Seven had just departed. He suspected he knew the underlying meaning to Seven's words, but knew he wouldn't and shouldn't be the one to voice them. "She needs some space."

Chakotay could feel a flush of anger warm his body as he wondered about all this concern for Seven and more importantly Seven's rather uncharacteristically demonstrative display. He felt as if he was missing a large piece of the puzzle, he had a semblance of an idea of what that piece could entail and with that another wave of anger mixed with jealousy filled his large frame. He had lost the woman he loved, but it was Seven who was being treated almost as if she were now a widow. If there had been any sort of vocal complaint from Chakotay it was forestalled by the entrance of one man whom he had heard of, seen brief images of, and had been furiously jealous of for several long years.

"Mark."

Martha had reluctantly allowed her sister-in-law freedom from her embrace as more people entered the home to extend their sympathies to the woman who had just lost her daughter. She watched with concerned gray eyes as Gretchen stood tall and gracious, though with an almost visible weight that pressed down upon her slim shoulders. Martha Janeway didn't understand the point of a wake; they were uncomfortable and solemn at best. So she decided to do what was traditional for her people during such a ceremony, she pushed her large frame into the kitchen to get herself another drink. The one she had just poured herself a few minutes ago was now in the hands of her sister-in-law.

The sorry vision that greeted her as she entered raised her hackles; Phoebe Janeway sat despondently at the small breakfast nook with a bottle of Martha's most prized whiskey, mostly empty, in her slim hands as she dozed against the wall.

"Phoebe Elsa Janeway, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Martha pushed her lumbering form quickly towards her young niece, her voice filled with disapproval as she pulled the nearly empty bottle from the limp grasp of Phoebe Janeway. "That was _my_ special bottle! And you didn't even take the time to enjoy it."

Phoebe gurgled out an indecipherable response as her heavy eyelids fluttered, but she remained slumped against the wall.

After Martha carefully poured the rest of the contents of the bottle into her glass, she brought a hypospray out from one of her deep and concealed pockets. With a soft hiss, the mixture of detoxifying serum and a strong stimulant brought Phoebe into consciousness abruptly and with a pounding headache that her aunt had apparently not deemed it necessary to relieve.

"Oh, god, my head…" Phoebe's mass of red curls fell in thick waves down her back, over her shoulders, and across the sides of her face as she bent over the table with her head held in her hands. She was in the midst of deciding whether to throw up here in the kitchen or outside when the strong unmistakable smell of coffee hit her squarely in the face as the mug was placed on top of the table. She released her hold on her pounding head as she grasped the mug and brought the steaming bitter liquid to her lips.

As she nursed her tumbler filled with aged whiskey, Martha seated herself across from her niece on the wooden bench. Her gray eyes narrowed as she watched Phoebe take tentative sips of the strong coffee. "Do you want to tell me why you've been hiding away in here for the last hour? Your mother has been having to deal with all those godforsaken people on her own you know. I'm sure they all mean well but what do they expect from her, I just don't know. I've never liked these wakes, if you ask me they're stuffy and uncomfortable. But you're not making it any easier for your mother."

"What do you expect from me?" Phoebe groaned as the coffee settled uneasily in her stomach, her blue eyes didn't look up from her hands for she could already well imagine the expression on her aunt's face.

"I don't _expect_ anything from you, Phoebes." Martha put the pad of her index finger underneath the other woman's chin and raised it so that blue eyes would finally meet her own steady gaze of sympathy mixed evenly with firmness. "I know you're in pain. That you're hurting and angry and feeling the loss deeply, but you're not the only one who lost Kathryn."

"Those _people_ didn't lose Kathryn." Phoebe pushed away from the table fiercely as she stood and towered over her aunt. Her eyes blazed with a renewed anger that the copious amounts of alcohol had dulled for a little while until her aunt had decided to intervene. "_They_ never had her. They were just her crew. I'm her sister. Her family. Not them!"

Martha watched as the heat of Phoebe's anger colored her high cheekbones and the pale lightly freckled skin of her neck and upper chest and finally began to understand this woman's fury. In a lighter voice unaccustomed to the woman she voiced her certainty. "You're jealous for no reason, Phoebe. They didn't replace you or your mother or hell even me. They merely joined the ranks of Kathryn's family."

"I. Am not. Jealous." Even as she stated the words stridently as her fury filled her with heat, she knew that the words were simply not true. She was jealous, she had been extremely jealous.

After having been apart for seven years, Phoebe had barely recognized the woman her sister had become. The easy confidence and authoritative presence, the darkly laced and scathing sense of humor, the cynical perception of those around her, the voice that had lowered over the years to give it a hard and unrelenting timbre, and the unease in which Kathryn had interacted with her family had replaced the woman who she had hugged good-bye at _Voyager's_ launch ceremony. This unknown entity that her sister had become carried herself with self-assurance which bordered closely to arrogance and a superior air as if Kathryn Janeway knew something important that no else could. Her sister had always seemed to seek the approval of those around her whether it be from an instructor, an admiral, and especially their own father but when she had returned gone were her concerns of what others thought of her, her accomplishments and achievements even her mistakes and rule breaking had all been summed up and dismissed with four simple words that spoke volumes… _I was the Captain_. And with those words a heaviness almost visible had seemed to lay on her sister's shoulders. Gone were the easy smiles and unrestrained laughter, every emotional response seemed a forethought, as if Kathryn would decide which emotion she would display and to what extent before it was allowed to show on her expression or her tone.

Even two years after Kathryn's return, Phoebe had still felt estranged from her sister. They had rarely spoken to each other in the last few years and had seen each other even less. Her mother would always tell her in that understanding, soft voice of hers that Kathryn would need time to reacquaint herself with her home, her planet, what the Federation had become after almost being destroyed in the Dominion War. But it didn't seem that Kathryn took much time at all after she came back. She had always been either at Starfleet Command or off on a mission and had seemingly worked nonstop after being promoted to Admiral. Kathryn had always had an unrelenting energy but after her travels through the Delta Quadrant that energy had turned into something well contained, molded into an air of unrelenting command, and something that seemed almost dangerous as if someone could easily get burned by standing too close to her.

When Phoebe had questioned her sister regarding her unceasing missions Kathryn had merely looked at her patiently and stated that the Federation needed all the assistance it could to rebuild and that she had a responsibility as a Starfleet officer. The belief that that sense of responsibility was something that Phoebe could never understand wasn't spoken, but the meaning had seemed clear in her sister's patiently condescending words.

Kathryn had always been the responsible one, the person who had direction in life, a set purpose, lofty goals, and the ambition and abilities to attain them all. Phoebe, on the other hand, had always been the free-spirit, unburdened by things such a rules and protocol, of such structural constraints and linear path through life. Kathryn had not always been understanding of their differences but she had never made Phoebe feel like a failure or a person she simply had no time for… until her sister had returned home. More often than not, Phoebe had felt like another responsibility loaded onto her sister that would only take precedence after the Federation was returned to its former strength and glory. Her sister had just not had the time to be entangled with the carefree life of Phoebe.

So, after seven long years of hoping and praying that her sister would return to them, when she finally did she seemed even farther away in the same space than she had in all of those years away in a distant part of another quadrant. And at this very moment Phoebe Janeway seated across from her aged aunt she realized the truth. She had lost her sister over nine years ago; it was only now that she realized that fact and also the knowledge that it was permanent.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 9

_Indiana_

"Oh, well that's just great."

Phoebe Janeway's steps faltered when she saw who was standing beneath the large oak tree that overlooked a small pond on the outskirts of the Janeway farm. As much as she wanted to turn around and retreat back into the large house she had just escaped from she knew such action would be ridiculous. Seven already knew she was there.

"Phoebe Janeway." Seven ignored the anxiety that filled her as she kept her voice flat though acknowledging. Her stance went more rigid as she clasped her hands behind her back. She wasn't aware that such impassivity would just anger Phoebe all the more.

"Seven of Nine." Phoebe's voice was anything but flat. Seven's name came out almost tauntingly and surely irritated. "What do you think you're doing out here?"

"I required… air." A cold sort of panic swept through Seven's lanky frame as she watched Phoebe's dark blue eyes narrow with poorly concealed antagonism. "I will leave now."

As calmly as she could Seven walked steadily away from the small pond towards the house. Phoebe's voice stopped her a few steps after Seven had walked past her.

"Answer me one thing, huh… who the hell do you think you are?" One slim hand went to her jutted hip while the other one had a finger pointed at Seven. Phoebe's voice was hard and unforgiving as it went up in volume and accusation.

"I—I do not understand the question." Seven really didn't. She knew exactly who she was.

"Coming here. Looking all…" Phoebe's hands waved in the air as she grasped for the words she wanted to say. "Damaged! Don't you think I know what you did? I know exactly what you did, Seven of Nine. You. Killed. Her."

The small muscle in Seven's jaw below her starburst implant jumped and continued to as she felt a wave of pain, guilt, and anger. Yes, she was infuriated by this woman before her and her condemnation. But the truth of the matter was she couldn't truly deny Phoebe's indictment.

Seven's stony silence just incensed Phoebe more. Her voice cut through the calm night sky as she rained all her sorrow and wrath onto the woman before her, which caused her slim frame to shake with the ferocity of her anguish. "Why? Why did you do it? You left her! She died alone on that damned Borg ship! All alone! Do you understand that? She was all alone!"

Phoebe screamed loudly before she let her fist fly. A tight grasp on her wrist prevented her punch from connecting with Seven's face. The hit that did connect made her howl out in sudden pain after her fist collided with the metal of Seven's abdominal implant. Now both her wrists were held in Seven's impenetrable grip.

"Get your hands off me!" Phoebe pulled fiercely away from the woman that had her wrists imprisoned as hot tears of both grief and frustration streamed down her cheeks. "I said get your goddamned hands off me you… you BORG! You're not even a person. You're not human. You're a machine and you always will be! Now let me go, you goddamned toaster!"

Phoebe let out a surprised gasp as she landed quite hard on the cold ground. She looked up angrily at the seemingly always impassive woman towering above her. But Phoebe Janeway saw something she had never before seen on Seven's narrow features and in those icy blue eyes. And she knew that any patience Seven had held for a grieving little sister was now gone. If she wasn't so furious she would have perhaps had the common sense not to aggravate the woman any more than she already had.

"Yeah, that's right. I don't care how much dressing up you do I know what you really are. You're a Borg… a killer." Even shaking on the cold ground, Phoebe's fury heated her blood. "You've killed thousands before. And you've just added one more to your list. How does that feel? Knowing that you killed the one woman who… the one person who would have done anything for you? Who gave you back your life! She saved you. And you killed her in return. I asked you… how does that feel?"

"If you will be silent I will answer your question." Seven was relieved when Phoebe did indeed stop her tirade though the furious expression didn't assist in Seven's calm. "It is true that I was the carrier of the Endgame Virus that destroyed the Borg cube. Initially I was unsuccessful in my mission. The Borg Queen prevented me from deploying it. It seemed that she could not be stopped and Earth would have been the first planet within the Federation to have fallen before the rest of the Quadrant and then the Galaxy would be devastated by the Borg. I could not stop the Queen, she was too powerful for me. It was your sister… she found me in the Hive Mind. She was able to overcome the control of the Collective. Just enough to sacrifice herself. She did it for me. She did it for you. For all those billions upon billions of lives that would have been destroyed by a creature who had taken possession of her body and mind. She did it as she did everything, her way. If you wish to blame me for your sister's death, that is your choice. But know this… I fully acknowledge my part in her demise and I must live with my own guilt. But I also know what was in her thoughts, her heart. She thanked me, Phoebe Janeway. Because I gave her the tools she needed to do this one last act. To save us all."

"If—if that's true. That you were with her, that you could hear her thoughts, know what she was feeling…" Phoebe Janeway's fury was replaced by shame at her own behavior and also the need to know what Seven had felt at the end of her sister's life. "Was she very afraid?"

"I once heard a statement regarding an incident that occurred before I was onboard _Voyager_. 'Kathryn Janeway once stood toe-to-toe with death and death blinked first'." Seven smiled softly, a bitter-sweet smile of remembrance as she thought of the woman that she had thought, hoped, would be somehow immortal.

"I still can't stop… hating you, Seven. At least for now." It was true that Phoebe had herself composed, but she still couldn't find a way to forgive Seven for her part in Kathryn's death. So she was truthful and knew it hurt Seven, but she couldn't be any more dishonest than Seven could be. Phoebe warred internally for a few seconds before she decided to put it all out there. "She loved you, you know."

"Yes. I know." All the regret for what could have been flashed across Seven's pained features as she acknowledged what she had discovered in those precious moments when she had been utterly connected to Kathryn Janeway.

"And you loved her." Phoebe's voice held no uncertainty. She had seen it plainly written all over Seven's face the moment Kathryn had introduced them at the homecoming celebration.

Seven didn't hesitate or waste a second to wonder how easily she could be read before she answered quietly, almost reverently. "Yes."

"What a fucking mess."

"Indeed."

"We're a long way from home. Everyone is lonely, and all we have is each other. I think eventually people will begin to pair off." Her blue eyes were as light as her tone, she seemed more amused than anything else at the minor indiscretion of two members of her crew having been caught kissing in the turbolift by the First Officer, though there still seemed to be a trace of sadness and guilt in her voice.

Chakotay gazed down upon her, his eyes captivated by the way the Bridge lights highlighted her hair with strands of gold and red and his chest warmed as he wondered how that hair would look loose and falling freely over her delicate shoulders and down her back. His voice was soft and entreating. "Including you?"

He had surprised her he could see that much as she brought her eyes away from the readout on the aft tactical station to lock on to his dark brown ones. Now her voice was almost regretful, but she tried to hide it beneath her tone of confidence and her luminous smile. "As Captain, that's a luxury I don't have. Besides, I intend for us to be home before, before Mark gives me up for dead." 

Chakotay was brought back to the present as he stood next to his crewmates all of whose eyes were trained solely on the gray haired man who had just entered the Janeway homestead and had been quickly engulfed in the strong embrace of Gretchen.

_But he did give you up for dead, Kathryn._ Chakotay's dark eyes narrowed with a fury spurred on by a deep seated jealousy that fired angrily within his large form. _And after only four years. I've waited for you for almost a decade and would have waited for you for a lifetime if need be. He had you and the damned fool let you go._

Chakotay contemplated all he knew about Mark Johnson. Kathryn had never spoken too extensively about the man she had planned to be married to soon after _Voyager's_ first mission to capture Chakotay and the renegade Maquis was completed. However, they had spent four months with only each other for companionship on the planet they had named New Earth, so Chakotay had learned perhaps more than he had wanted to know about the man who had started off as a childhood schoolmate whom she had not liked in the least due to his "vulkiness" but who, over time, had become a strong and sure confidant, a good friend and then her fiancée.

He had learned that Mark Johnson was a tenured professor of philosophy at the University of Chicago and how he suffered from space sickness almost the moment he boarded a spaceship. How Mark had revealed to her after their romantic relationship had begun that he had always loved her, been in love with her, even from childhood. She had laughed when she had told Chakotay this since she had always thought of the child she had been as haughty and too highly opinionated not to mention intolerant of the well-mannered boy who she had called Hobbes or Vulky when her mother wasn't around for the gentle, kind-hearted Mark to ever have loved her. Chakotay had smiled then at the thought of the rambunctious child Kathryn Janeway had been and how one could, not to her face of course, say that she was still haughty and highly opinionated but that she was also so very easy to love.

What had struck Chakotay as curious then was that aside from descriptions of Mark as a kind, quiet man who had given her comfort especially after the death of her father and her first fiancée, Justin Tighe, Kathryn had never been explicit about why she had fallen in love with the man. Chakotay wondered about that fact then and wondered about it now as the man who he had wanted to thank for releasing Kathryn from her marital obligations but to also bash in for having caused the strong woman so much pain spoke in hushed tones to the woman who would have been his mother-in-law.

Mark Johnson towered above Gretchen Janeway, Chakotay hadn't expected the man to be quite so tall. Gretchen barely reached the large man's broad shoulders, which indicated that Mark was several inches taller than Chakotay. The present Captain of _Voyager_ didn't know exactly what he had expected of the man who had been engaged to Kathryn Janeway, perhaps a too thin studious man with no substance to him whatsoever definitely not the man who nearly engulfed Gretchen with his arms and imposing frame. The large build bespoke a man who had been a strong youth who had only softened due to age. The gray haired man's head was bowed as he smiled, a sad tremulous smile, while he still held on to Gretchen Janeway's now trembling form since she had begun to sob softly into the man's green sweater covered chest.

The living room was sparsely filled with people, conversations had quieted, but words that flittered around indicated that most people knew who the gray haired man was who had so recently entered. The ex-fiancee.

Captain Janeway's former crew and Jarem Kaz had never met the man who had quite suddenly, upon his entrance, ended their words of concern for Seven of Nine when Chakotay had uttered a name, the tone filled with years of resentment.

"Who is that?" Jarem kept his voice soft and quiet as his blue gaze took in the tall gray haired man with curiosity.

The holographic Doctor's brow creased as he shifted through his memory files. "I believe that's Mark Johnson. Admiral Janeway was engaged to him when _Voyager_ was taken into the Delta Quadrant."

"Oh." Jarem looked a bit more closely at the man whose identity was just revealed to him.

Before Doctor Jarem Kaz could stop himself he found that he was evaluating the man who would have been Kathryn Janeway's husband. After Jarem appraised the other man with keenly intelligent light blue eyes, he determined for himself that Mark Johnson was an attractive enough fellow if not particularly noteworthy with a large sturdy build that was bulky but couldn't be called fat, had a calm, gentle presence and a slow, easy way of moving. Jarem tried to picture the arresting, authoritative, charming, almost larger than life in personality though delicate and petite in stature woman who was Admiral Kathryn Janeway coupled with a man who on first inspection seemed quite the opposite and found it extremely difficult to do so. Though to be charitable Jarem Kaz hadn't known Kathryn Janeway for very long and certainly hadn't before her grand return from her seven year journey through the Delta Quadrant and so it was quite possible and actually most probable that she had changed immensely in those seven long years.

Before any one of the Starfleet officers could comment further, they closed their mouths and stood straighter as they watched Gretchen Janeway lead the gray haired man towards their position in front of the fireplace. She had encircled one of his arms with her own and though she seemed calm the unmistakable veil of sadness was still around her. Mark for the most part had a relatively friendly and open expression tinged with the sorrow expected of a man who had just lost someone he had loved for nearly his entire life.

The _Voyager_ crew and Mark were left awkwardly alone when Gretchen, after a few cursory introductions had been made, departed to greet a new group of mourners who had just entered the Janeway home.

"Mark." Tom Paris smiled his warmest, most inviting grin as he moved between his wife and Chakotay who he wondered could be giving off any less friendly vibes than the man already was. "Let's get you a drink."

Still smiling his friendly, boyish grin, Tom led Mark away from the scrutiny of his crewmates and into the empty kitchen.

Unlike the others, Tom knew exactly why someone like Kathryn Janeway would have fallen for a guy like Mark. He actually reminded Tom strangely of his mother, Julia Paris. Mark, like his mother, was naturally affable, stable, calm, supportive, and most importantly reliable. Janeway needed someone who would always be there. Someone she could put out of her mind when on a mission. And then come back to when it was over. Tom also understood that the detour into the Delta Quadrant spared Janeway from a pretty dull marriage if a pleasant one.

"Thanks." Mark took the proffered tumbler filled with Irish whiskey gladly. The liquid burned on its way down, but he ignored it as he took a second drink from the glass.

"Not a problem." Tom decided to forgo any more alcohol as he took in the rather shaky way Mark brought the tumbler to his lips. "I'm sorry… we—we all loved her."

Mark peered into his near empty glass for a moment or two before he brought his hazel eyes to Tom's sympathetic expression. He took another drink from the tumbler before he spoke in a soft, gentle tone. "Kath had that effect on people. I think I fell in love with her before I even knew what it meant. She didn't give me the time of day though. Too… 'vulky' for her tastes. Not many people are aware of this, certainly no one in Starfleet, but Kath had a bit of a rebellious streak when she was a teenager."

Janeway's voice from years ago floated in Tom's mind. "When I was in high school I snuck out of the house a couple of times late at night. Had to tiptoe past my parents' bedroom. That's kind of how I feel right now." 

Tom almost laughed out loud as an amusing image of a young rebellious teenager that had been Kathryn Janeway was conjured in his thoughts.

"She actually saved my life once. But only after convincing me to go swimming with her in some caves under the Olympus Mons on Mars." Mark laughed softly as he shook his head at the memories. "She probably could have convinced me that jumping out of an orbital shuttle was a good idea. Plus, she wasn't too good at taking no for an answer. She was a bossy little teenager."

Tom's soft snicker matched Mark's as he nodded his head in understanding. "I imagine that she was."

"Was she happy?" Mark's voice lost all of its teasing quality. He looked apprehensively at Tom as his voice turned regretful. "I haven't really heard much of her in the last year. She… I knew she was busy and Carla and I, we—do you know if she was happy?"

"I—I don't know." Tom looked away as dismay marred his features. The reality was that Admiral Janeway in the past year had seemed to increasingly distance herself from her former _Voyager_ crew. "Since I became First Officer onboard _Voyager_, we've had—"

"Missions." Mark drained the rest of the contents in his glass before he set the tumbler on the kitchen counter next to him. "Yeah, I can understand that."

"She's been busy too. Working to rebuild Starfleet." Tom didn't know who he was trying to convince Mark or himself. The distance that had grown between the _Voyager_ crew that had been lost in the Delta Quadrant and the indomitable woman who had brought them back home was reasonable, tolerable, though regrettable.

Mark merely nodded in acknowledgment of Tom's words, his explanation, as he wrestled with his own guilty conscience for all the things he had done and not done regarding Kathryn Janeway. He had been so relieved when Kathryn and Carla became friends. His wife had always been concerned that if Kathryn Janeway ever came back into his life she would lose him. But that hadn't been the case. Whatever he had with Kathryn had been taken from them during the seven years she had spent in the Delta Quadrant. He still loved her, he always would, but even if he would have been willing to give up his family he knew she wouldn't let him. She was never cold, just distant. Warm but never entirely open. And then after a while she drifted away from him completely and he had allowed it. Seemingly too wrapped up in his own life with his wife and son to notice that the woman he had always loved was vanishing from his life. He didn't know if he should feel a modicum of relief that it hadn't just been him that she had pulled away from. Her beloved crew apparently had also lost that seemingly unbreakable bond that had formed between during their voyage home. Or perhaps it was just with their former captain that bonds had loosened.

Tears of regret and sorrow formed in Mark's eyes as a pain clutched at his chest. He had been forced to bury Kathryn once before when he had thought she was dead when no word of _Voyager_ appeared after three long years of searching. But she had come back then. Impossibly, but Kathryn never did do things the easy way. So seven years after he had seen her off on her brand new ship, _Voyager_, her Captain with crew in tow returned to Earth and Kathryn Janeway had been resurrected. His chest tightened as he allowed the hot tears to fall for he knew this time she wouldn't be coming back. Ever. She was gone and he would never have the chance to tell her how much he still loved her and always would.

"I'm sorry." Mark wasn't really that apologetic though he did wipe the tears from his face as he composed himself with several deep breaths.

"Hey, it's all right." There was nothing but sympathy in Tom's light blue eyes, sympathy and growing moisture. He didn't hesitate to lay a supportive hand on Mark's shoulder. "Come on, let's get another drink. We can sit down and you can tell me where a young Kathryn Janeway snuck off to late at night after tip-toeing past her parents' bedroom."

Gretchen Janeway's smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she overheard a snippet of Mark telling Owen's son some of Kathryn's teenage antics. She continued her course past the kitchen to the back porch. She was surprised and not just a little concerned when she saw Phoebe with Seven underneath the large oak tree Kathryn had loved so much as a child. Gretchen could almost see a six year old Kathryn climbing the large oak in order to sit on a dense branch and escape her little sister that Kathryn would call "meddlesome".

She was brought back to the present when Phoebe made her way steadily to her location seated on the bench swing. Her youngest daughter had a blush to her features, but she didn't look as upset and angry as she had earlier in the day. Perhaps the blame Phoebe had placed on Seven was beginning to dissolve. Gretchen certainly hoped so. Anger wouldn't help Phoebe grieve or come to terms with her loss, it would just eat away at her and she would never be able to resolve her own feelings regarding her sister. Perhaps Phoebe needed to talk with someone, professionally. Perhaps, Gretchen thought warily, so did she.

Phoebe didn't say a word as she sat next to Gretchen on the bench and embraced her tightly. Gretchen returned the comfort as her own arms wrapped around the shaking form of her daughter. They had grieved for Kathryn before. When Starfleet had deemed that _Voyager_ had been destroyed. But that hadn't been so definite, so heart-breaking. Both she and Phoebe had sworn to themselves, at least that if anyone could do the impossible it would be Kathryn. That somehow she had survived and would return to them. And she had. Was it not possible this time? Gretchen strengthened her hold as she realized that no, it wasn't possible. Whoever her daughter had been… she had been destroyed by what she was forced to become long before the Borg cube had been decimated.

She wiped the tears away from her daughter's cheeks after she was released from Phoebe's arms. "Mark's here, regaling Owen's boy with tales of Kathryn as a teenager. Why don't you go in there, tell them about the time you 'found' Kathryn's diary."

Phoebe nodded before she stood from the bench. A broad grin grew as she remembered that time nearly three decades ago. "I don't think I've ever seen her so mad. I thought her head would explode."

"Well, you didn't have to ask why the French were such sloppy kissers." Gretchen gave Phoebe's right hand a squeeze before her daughter entered the house.

The small smile on Gretchen's lips vanished as she turned back to set her gaze on Seven still standing beneath the big oak tree. The other woman had her back to Gretchen, but she had the distinct impression that Seven was fully aware that she was there. She debated whether she should just leave the young woman to her own thoughts or go to her. Gretchen also wondered what had transpired between Phoebe and Seven. Something told her that Phoebe's anger towards Seven had dissolved at least a little.

"Seven?" Gretchen pulled her shawl tighter around her chilled frame as she waited for Seven to face her. She had wondered if Seven had been either too lost in thought or ignoring her since her approach hadn't exactly been quiet.

"Do you also blame me? Hate me?" Seven didn't turn anything but her head. Her optical implant gleamed in the moonlight.

"Oh, Seven, no, no not at all." Gretchen walked closer to the small pond so that she could see Seven's features more clearly. As Seven turned to face her completely Gretchen's heart clenched at the sight of a woman in extreme pain. A trail of hot tears had left tracks across Seven's cheeks and a dark sorrow had fallen over her features.

"You are certain?"

"Yes, completely. You aren't to blame for what happened to Kathryn, Seven. I know that Phoebe is… angry, but she shouldn't be taking it out on you. I'm sure a part of her knows that. You would never have done anything to intentionally harm Kathryn, I know this."

"That is correct. But I did not accompany her to the Borg cube. I was unable to convince her not to go." Seven's eyes shifted from Gretchen to look once again reflectively at the small pond. "I cannot help but wonder if I could have somehow prevented the events that occurred."

A strangely familiar hand fell on Seven's shoulder, which brought her attention back to Gretchen. The warm hand that remained on her shoulder felt and looked so much like Kathryn's that it made Seven's chest ache with renewed pain.

"It's not me you need to ask forgiveness from… or Phoebe. Or anyone else for that matter." Gretchen gently turned Seven towards her so that she could place both hands on the other woman's shoulder having no idea the mixture of torture and gratification Gretchen's touch brought Seven. "It's you. You have to stop blaming yourself, Seven. I don't blame you and I am certain Kathryn wouldn't either. To start healing you must begin by forgiving yourself."

"What if I cannot?"

"Then you can't. But try. Please." Gretchen's eyes held fast as her voice turned quite earnest. "I know she wouldn't want you to be unhappy."

"There are many things I regret not saying to her. How… grateful I am for all that she has done for me. She was my constant guide to humanity. And I believe through her I have found it." Seven found it both comforting and distressing to look upon a woman who was so much like Kathryn. Seven allowed the sensation of comfort overshadow the distress as her words were uttered quietly, sincerely. "I grew to depend on her. Too much perhaps. Now that she is—I am… unsure as to how to function sufficiently without her."

"You carry on, Seven. And you aren't alone. You have friends." Gretchen pulled Seven into her slim arms as she whispered affectionately. "And family. I'll always be here for you, Seven. Always."

Seven's eyes filled with tears before they closed and she embraced Gretchen as tightly as she dared. Her voice was soft next to Gretchen's ear, heartfelt and grateful. "I do not know what to say. Thank you."

"I know you have a good heart, Seven." Gretchen loosened her hold so that she could bestow upon Seven one of the famous smiles known of her and her two daughters. "Kathryn wouldn't have fallen in love with you if you didn't."

Suddenly self-conscious, Seven averted her gaze to the ground before it was brought back to look upon Gretchen's elegant features when fingers turned her chin.

"You thought perhaps I didn't know. I am her mother." Gretchen's tone was lightly teasing as she liked where the conversation had turned. "And you loved her in return. I'll admit I haven't known you for very long, but I could see it plain as day the first time I met you."

"What you say is true." With no conscious thought on her part, Seven pulled the dark gray knit shawl around Gretchen's slightly shivering form. The action warmed Gretchen more than the actual material as she thanked Seven. "I regret that I did not have the… courage to state my feelings to her."

"I'm sure she knew, Seven. Unconsciously perhaps. Or perhaps she didn't know that you were in love with her. But she certainly knew you loved her. That she was important to you." Gretchen felt an almost overwhelming feeling of sympathy for the woman before her who had loved her daughter so purely, who had possessed her Kathryn's tremendous heart like no one ever had, and Seven had in turn granted Kathryn possession of her own. To never be able to have that love realized… well, Gretchen could think of nothing more tragic than that. "And even though she's gone she'll always be a part of you. She's in your heart."

"I am sorry I could not save her." Seven's voice was uneven as hot tears filled her throat and heated her chest. "That I could not bring her back to you."

"Oh, Seven, I know you are." One slim hand cupped Seven's cheek gently, lovingly, as if the heartbroken woman before her was her own daughter. Perhaps she would have been if the fates had been kinder. "And… you did save her. She wouldn't have wanted to live as a force of death and destruction. I'm sure she was grateful to you for helping her defeat the Borg… one last time."

Thank you, Seven.

Seven knew it was impossible but she had the unmistakable feeling that Kathryn Janeway was near. So close to her that she could almost smell her subtle perfume. Feel her blue gaze on her and the smile her mind had conjured up that held mischief and affection. And then the sensation was gone and Seven felt cold, empty, and incomplete.

Gretchen's frantic voice brought Seven out of her reverie suddenly. The weight of the implants in Seven's slim form had forced Gretchen to lower them both to the earth when Seven had went stiff, with wide blue eyes, and then quickly proceeded to faint.

"Seven, are you all right?" Gretchen was relieved when Seven's eyes opened and an almost desperately disappointed look filled the icy blue gaze.

"Yes. I am all right. I apologize if I frightened you." Seven stood uncomfortably as she brushed away the last strands of hope that when she would open her eyes she would find herself in _Voyager's_ sickbay, the vessel still traveling through the Delta Quadrant, and the last two years were just a dream. That Captain Janeway would be peering worriedly down at her as she had so many times before. That Kathryn would still be alive.

"Let's get you inside. You need to eat something. You're skin and bone." Gretchen brought her shawl around Seven as she led her towards the house. She barked out a surprised laugh when Seven added that she was also made of metal. Though if the former Borg drone had meant it as a joke only Seven could really say.

Even if they would have been allowed the awareness of the two individuals standing by the small pond, Gretchen and Seven were too far away to hear a husky voice tinged with reproach. "You shouldn't have done that."

An equally husky voice filled with remorse answered back. "I know."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 10

_Somewhere_

"You can't move forward if you keep going back to them, Q." The imposing dark redheaded woman, a member of the immortal and nearly omnipotent Q Continuum, had a reprimanding tone to her voice that reminded the listener of an exasperated teacher with an unruly student. Which, Kathryn Janeway mused, she supposed she was.

"I told you not to call me that." Janeway's voice was just as exasperated as she placed her hands on her hips in a show of defiance. "That's not my name."

"Am I supposed to call you Kathryn? Or Kath? Or Goldenbird? Or Katie-bug? Or Katie? Or how about Janeway? Or Admiral? Is Captain more to your liking?" Q's femininely low voice was a drawl of derision before she tried to moderate it to a less contemptuous tone. "You aren't any of those people any longer. Kathryn Janeway is in the past. To those who knew her she is dead, gone, and buried and that is where she will remain. You, however, have evolved. Destiny and those who control it have seen it fit to charge you with the task of undoing what you have done and doing what you have yet to do. And as much as I know you don't believe in destiny, well… frankly it doesn't matter whether you believe in it or not. Your destiny doesn't need your belief to make it real. To make it have consequence. To be inexorable."

"If that's true then I wish destiny would hurry up and tell me what it is I am meant to do." Kathryn Janeway had never believed in fate. She had always believed she steered her own course and now that she was this new entity the person once known as Kathryn Janeway still fully believed that. So, waiting around in a vast nothingness listening to lecture after lecture from Q was becoming tiresome, infinitely so.

"Certain events must transpire before your involvement will be required. Until then you have much to learn and to unlearn." Q looked disapprovingly at the choice of physicality Q had chosen. It was Kathryn Janeway right down to the last freckle. How uninspired. Though she had to admit she had kept the human female form she had adopted long ago when she had first encountered Captain Janeway onboard _Voyager_ to provide this new being before her with familiarity, a comforting image. "The first thing you need to unlearn is thinking of yourself as Kathryn Janeway. You are Q. And you will be for eternity."

"Well…" The entity that still thought of herself as Kathryn Janeway looked around at the abysmal nothingness that surrounded her and then back to her guide to Q-ness. The Q who had sought mortality onboard _Voyager_, Quinn, was brought to her thoughts as she attempted to merely conceive of an acceptance of a life of immortality, especially with the maddening woman before. "Damn."

"You wouldn't like eternity in a comet, I assure you of that." There was no amount of irony in Q's voice as she looked quite seriously at Q.

"You know what else I don't like, having you in my head." Perhaps she was being ungracious since she had in fact been saved from certain death by Q. But she couldn't help it, she still thought of herself as Kathryn Janeway no matter what form she had been changed into. Her appearance just emphasized that point though she was a bit disturbed that she was garbed in her old red and black uniform and that she had even materialized her captain's pips. What that said about her subconscious she didn't exactly know nor was she in the mood to explore it. Her eyes narrowed as she looked upon the perpetually smug Q before her.

"Then stop me." Q tried not to sound as exasperated as she felt. She knew she probably failed and didn't really care all that much. Q was just as frustrating as the human woman she used to be. Perhaps more so because Q knew what the other Q could be capable of if she would just relieve herself of the constraints of human thought and considerations regarding reality and ability. "Don't try to stop me, just stop me."

"I—" Janeway's pursed lips and scrunched brow displayed her own uncertainty. "Am I doing it right now?"

Q sighed a long suffering breath. "No."

It was of course unbecoming a Starfleet Admiral to stomp around indignantly, but the being that had once been one saw nothing wrong in doing it now. She threw her hands up in the air in annoyance before she looked pointedly at her sole companion. "Well, how the hell am I supposed to stop you then?"

"Just… do it." Q began to wonder why she had been given the task of shepherding this new form of Q that had been given its existence by the Continuum. And then she thought of q and knew why. Kathryn Janeway had once given her life through a son and now she was compelled to return the favor.

"I never thought I'd say this but you're even more infuriating than Q." Janeway's voice lingered with annoyance on the single letter name. With her hands on her hips she glared with frustration at this Q.

"Yes, well, he's softened with age hasn't he?" Q couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret that Q and q weren't aware that under the direction of the Q court she had extracted the essence of Kathryn Janeway from her mutilated corporeal form. And that through the power of the court a new Q was born. A Q that was destined to resolve the disruption Kathryn Janeway's transformation into a new kind of Borg Queen, a new dawning for the Borg Collective itself, had created within the cosmic threads of destiny. A disruption that needed to be resolved or all could be lost.

The former Starfleet Captain thought back to the last time she had spoken to Q alone, almost three years ago onboard _Voyager_ after the situation with q had been resolved. Q had still infuriated her with his games and trickery, but she had to admit she had felt something akin to friendship with him then and she had definitely felt affection for q. She had also seen in Q something unexpected, she had seen unselfishness and true love. This was a being who loved the life it had created and she hadn't been able to ignore the evidence of how much the once rebellious and perilous Q had changed.

"Yes. I suppose he has."

Feeling as though they were getting off-topic, Q raked over the other Q's form critically and with disapproval in her hazel glare. "Why do you maintain that form? Wear that unsightly uniform? I would think seven of your years of nearly never taking it off would have made you tired of it."

"I—it's just what I feel most comfortable in." She wondered why that admission made her feel uneasy.

"I see." There was a knowing expression on Q's features before she transported herself and the other Q to another time and place.

The person who had once been Kathryn Janeway was startled when the nothingness that had surrounded her was replaced by the bridge of _Voyager_ complete with members of her former crew, except they were all motionless in time. And she knew exactly the precise moment they were frozen in. She saw the woman she had been seated in the captain's chair about to command Tuvok to fire a volley of transphasic torpedoes in order to obliterate the Borg sphere _Voyager_ was contained within on the threshold of making it back to Earth.

"Why have you brought me here, Q?" She didn't think this was merely a manifestation. No, she knew Q had actually transported the two of them to this particular time and place. She just didn't know why and felt even more discomfort at the fact that perhaps she didn't want to know.

"She is on the brink of completing her precious mission, of accomplishing what someone with such a miniscule existence could call a monumental achievement. You are stuck in this moment." Q moved away from her impromptu student in favor of the identical woman seated unmoving in the captain's chair. "Why? Why is Kathryn Janeway so unsettled at this exact moment? She is almost afraid, but not of the Borg. No, she was truly an arrogant little bipedal specimen. She knew she would triumph over the Borg as she had an improbable amount of times before. And yet she still feels fear. Tell me why."

Janeway's pointed gaze remained on Q, she didn't dare look at anyone else for fear of the pain it would cost her to do so. Her voice was a low growl of discontentment. "You have all the answers apparently. You tell me."

"Let's stop playing games. We both know what Kathryn Janeway was afraid of. Or should I say who she's afraid of." Q watched with an almost sympathetic expression to her features as the other Q looked hesitantly from her to the former Borg drone that manned _Voyager's_ secondary tactical station behind the two command chairs. "No, not Seven… or her misguided association with Tattoo Boy."

Q had known quite well that Kathryn Janeway had been deeply in love with Seven of Nine and that the ex-Borg would have unequivocally returned such affection if it had ever been offered to her. It was so tragically human that she almost wanted to weep since this unrequited love story had quite the dramatic finish; one even she thought was a bit unjust. But the universe wasn't necessarily a just place so the demise of Kathryn Janeway due in part by Seven's actions still remained unchanged.

"Then WHO?" Janeway was getting loud and she knew it, but she was without care. Who would she be disturbing besides the infuriating Q before her?

"I hate having to spell everything out for you…" Q rolled her eyes as she tried to calm her voice as best she could though a hard unforgiving edge touched it due to her growing impatience. "…Captain, but it seems that Kathryn Janeway died long before she was transformed into the Borg Queen."

"That's absurd." Janeway was irritated but did feel comforted when Q returned their surroundings to nothingness rather than the ship she had so loved.

"Janeway was so worried about how everyone else would adjust after _Voyager_ reached the Federation. The holographic doctor. The Maquis. Icheb. And of course, Seven of Nine." Q took on the bearing of a class lecturer as her pointed gaze rested on her lone student. "Janeway never thought, never considered that she would find it difficult to be back in the Alpha Quadrant, back on Earth. Or to rejoin the ranks of Starfleet. To reconnect with her family. To be Kathryn instead of Captain."

"The first year it was easier to hide her discomfort. There was the Borg virus and the hologram rebellion. She was even able to keep in touch with some of her former crewmembers and had them and her family mostly convinced, for awhile at least, that she had acclimated herself quite nicely to this new reality she found herself in. But the truth was she felt stifled by being an Admiral. She felt trapped on Earth and within the confines of the high brass station she was given it almost felt strangling. She thought her family had changed when in fact it was she who had changed in those seven years, and that made it nearly impossible for her to connect with her mother and sister. They became like strangers to her because that is exactly what she had become to them."

"And then there's Seven. Why did you touch her instead of Gretchen Janeway? Did you not think perhaps the mother of Kathryn Janeway would have also benefited by your misguided attempt to provide comfort?"

Janeway felt an overwhelming sense of regret that she hadn't tried to give comfort to her mother or her sister or the rest of the mourners, but all she had been able to see, to focus on, was Seven. She could see the pain that was held within Seven. It was like a brilliant fire that burned brightest in her chest before it radiated out like tendrils to the rest of her body. She had wanted to take that pain away and before she could stop herself she was with Seven, touching her with what constituted as her mind as incorporeal is it was, and had felt an almost debilitating emptiness when she couldn't feel anything at all. She no longer truly existed on that plane nor was she capable of transubstantiating or involving herself with the mortal world beyond mere awareness. It was already becoming an unbearable existence. To be on the outside looking in.

"That's why you need to let go of the part of you that still believes you have a place with these… beings. You are now a god onto these mortal people. Never forget that." Despite having lived for billions of years Q was not a patient being, but she did attempt to keep her voice not unkind. Kathryn Janeway wasn't technically even buried yet so she knew it would take time for Q to accept her own departure from mortality. But destiny wouldn't wait forever and much needed to be done in order for Q to be prepared to meet her fate. "You can never go back to them. Even if the Continuum would allow it, which I assure you they will not, you have no place with them. And I think deep down you know… you never really did."

Janeway tried not to let the truth of Q's words and their effect show on her features or in her thoughts but she couldn't fool herself. She had never been content, fulfilled, or satisfied by anything in her life. She had always wanted more. She had always needed impossible challenges so that she could find impossible solutions… on her own, independent and self-realizing. She wondered, truly wondered for the first time that perhaps it had been fate that had stranded _Voyager_ in the Delta Quadrant. Perhaps she had always been a bit player in a cosmic drama, only now she was a much more important participant.

"Don't you see how restrictive your perception is made by this image of yourself, these confines of name and appearance? You are above all of those petty things. All you need to do is be above it. You are Q. You have a new existence to explore. A new way of experiencing the universe in a manner Kathryn Janeway couldn't have even hoped to begin to attempt to contemplate understanding. You were once a scientist, an explorer, you now have infinity to explore, countless planets to observe, trillions of species to encounter. You know it's ironic, Q would have given you all of this and now I'm the one to travel with you."

"There is no Kathryn Janeway, there is now only Q. Imagine, and now you have the ability to imagine the once unimaginable, what you are now able to do. All you have to do is let Kathryn Janeway go. Be Q."

The entity that had been known as Kathryn Janeway had always strived for greatness, to make a difference, to be important. She was beginning to realize that was what was being offered to her, an offer that went far beyond her wildest dreams. She was a Q. She attempted to wrap her mind around that fact. A Q, in control of time, matter, and space. Oh, the things she could do with that kind of power. She would have what she had always wanted in a twist of irony, complete and utter control. Over herself and her reality. For the first time since she had spoken with Seven of Nine in Admiral Janeway's office a lifetime ago, she smiled.

"Yes. Embrace it." Q grinned encouragingly, the perpetual smugness she usually wore was replaced by a true sense of delight in what the other Q was experiencing. A rebirth. "You're Q."

The visage of Kathryn Janeway began to fall away in brilliant pinpoints of light that penetrated through breakages in the human façade. Q began to feel ethereal and insubstantial and at the same time a surge of sensations filled her as she felt for the first time Everything. The vast Universe suddenly became understandable, knowable, and touchable. As if it had just become a wild animal that she had learned how to tame. She looked to her companion whose human appearance had also been replaced by brilliance and intangibility. The Q in their "true" form were a magnificent, awe-inspiring sight to behold, one which no mortal being could ever hope to look upon and survive to tell the tale.

Q led Q away from the nothingness to the Continuum. Destiny's wheel continued turning.

CHAPTER 11

_San Francisco_

A metal encased hand brushed over the etched writing embedded in the white marble of the tall, gleaming pillar with an eternal flame placed on top. The hand continued to outline each letter as its owner read the words softly to herself.

"Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade, and yet the menace of the years finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul."

"William Ernest Henley." Deanna Troi kept her voice light and conversational as she moved in her usual graceful manner to stand next to Seven of Nine before the memorial, monument really, for Admiral Janeway. "_Invictus_. It's a beautiful poem."

"Yes." Seven let her hand drop to her side but she kept her eyes on the words she had just recited aloud in lieu of the ones written above the carved poem that read "Kathryn Janeway May 20, 2335-November 27, 2380". When she had her composure maintained once again as a mask of impassivity fell over her features, Seven turned to face the dark haired woman next to her. "Commander Troi, I apologize for my tardiness."

"That's all right, Seven." Deanna Troi had never met the illustrious Seven of Nine before the memorial service three days ago, but she had heard much regarding the former Borg drone that had been liberated from the Collective by the then Captain Janeway and the crew of _Voyager_. What Troi had been told by the reputable sources of Tuvok and Captain Picard was that Seven was brilliant, tenacious, and, perhaps unassumingly, kind-hearted.

The first time Troi had seen Seven she had been nearly overwhelmed by the complex and varying emotions that had emanated strongly from the seemingly aloof and impassive woman whom Troi had also heard rather unkind remarks about from more refutable sources. She had heard murmurings that Seven was incapable of feeling, of emotions, that she was cold, abrasive, and still very much Borg. Troi knew nothing could be further from the truth. And she wouldn't even need to be an empath to know it. She could see it in the haunted look that cast darkness over Seven's features. Hear it in how Seven's voice would turn quiet and reverent at times and then completely filled with despair when discussing one single individual. Kathryn Janeway.

As she led Seven in silence across the grounds of the Presidio to her makeshift office within Starfleet Medical, Deanna thought about when her lifelong friend and confidant Beverly Crusher had taken her aside to speak with her in private regarding Seven of Nine after Admiral Janeway's memorial service.

"How long will the _Titan_ be at McKinley Station for its refit?" Beverly's warm, but firm grasp on Deanna's forearm kept the two women quite close to one another so that their words would not be overheard by any member of the large concentration of people, mostly Starfleet personnel.

"It's been through a lot. Will wants the whole ship overhauled, probably about three weeks. Maybe more. He wants to provide shore leave for the crew." Deanna felt concern mingling with anxiousness from Beverly. "Why? What's wrong?"

"It's Seven." Beverly's green eyes almost compulsively moved to the woman she spoke of. The former Borg drone stood with members of _Voyager's_ crew and though she maintained a calm and contained air, Beverly knew better. "I was hoping you could talk with her."

Deanna's gaze followed Beverly's. As she did she attempted to block the barrage of emotions emanating from the multitude of people surrounding her to focus solely on Seven. What Deanna found brought hot tears instantly to her dark brown eyes. "Of course."

"Thank you." Beverly produced a slim gray PADD from the inner pocket of her white dress uniform tunic. "This is the report. For your eyes only."

"Understood." Deanna took the proffered PADD and slipped it into her own inner pocket. "How's the Captain?"

"Oh, you know Jean Luc…"

In fact Deanna did and she could see his usual reticence in showing too much emotion clearly from his rigid posture as he talked with Admirals Paris and Patterson. "How are you doing, Beverly?"

"I wish the damned Borg would just be destroyed completely." Anger at what the people she loved and hadn't even known had experienced at the hands of the Borg made Beverly's voice low and gravely. "All they do is leave pain and devastation wherever they go. What kind of existence is that?"

"I'm not sure." Deanna knew a little of what had happened when the Borg cube had initially entered Sector 001 en route to Earth. She knew that Beverly had been face to face with the Borg Queen and had almost been killed, and all had been so close to being lost. "I don't know if we'll ever know their motives. I'm not sure if we could understand them even if we did."

Beverly noticed Jean Luc Picard standing alone in front of the tall pillar with a contrite expression. With a hug and a few kisses on one another's cheeks, Deanna was left alone. She moved to a secluded bench away from the bustle of people before she pulled the PADD from her coat.

Whatever Deanna had expected to find in the report Beverly had given her paled in comparison to the tragic tale that was contained within the seemingly dry account. She wondered if perhaps she would be required to take a leave of absence from the _Titan_ if she truly wanted to take on Seven as a client.

With a shuddering sigh Deanna replaced the PADD and stood from the bench. With shaky hands she smoothed down her white dress coat before she located Seven in the crowd, which wasn't actually too difficult of a task. She wiped away any emotion from her expression as she moved steadily through the throngs of people towards where Seven stood with Tuvok and other members of _Voyager's_ former and present crew.

Deanna softly expressed her condolences to the crew that had just lost their beloved leader before she asked Seven for a moment of her time.

"Commander Troi, you are a counselor are you not?" Seven kept her voice and her gaze steady. If she was uncomfortable about being led away from her former crewmates she didn't show it in the least as she stood rigidly with her chin up and her hands clasped behind her.

Surprised that Seven was taking the lead, Deanna's reply came out more uncertain than perhaps it should have. "I—I am."

"I believe I am in need of your services." Seven had been told by Gretchen Janeway that seeking professional help was something she should perhaps consider; that Gretchen was considering it for herself and would propose it to Phoebe as well.

Seven had been skeptical and uneasy, but Gretchen had affected her with words about healing, about "carrying on", about expressing her feelings to someone who held no judgment, only compassion and kindness. It had been Commander Tuvok, who had agreed with the logic of Gretchen Janeway's words, who had finally convinced Seven. Tuvok had also suggested just this individual to assist her. Deanna Troi.

Commander Troi was taken aback by Seven's admission and then she realized perhaps she shouldn't be. Seven was of course an individual, but perhaps she didn't have the preconceived notions some people had regarding psychiatric medicine. "When would be a good time for you, Seven?"

"At your earliest convenience, Commander." Though Seven's voice was on the surface flat, Deanna detected a faint feeling of impatience from the other woman.

"I'll need to set up an office. That could take a few days." Deanna's regretful voice trailed off at the end.

"Could my living quarters not be sufficient?"

"I'd like us to talk in a more neutral setting. Let me see if I can pull a few strings at Starfleet Medical." Deanna refrained from letting her hand fall reassuringly on Seven's shoulder. "There are a few people there who owe me a favor. I'll see what I can do and contact you tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"Acceptable."

So, now three days later, she was sitting in one of Doctor Pulaski's many adjunct offices with Seven of Nine. This was only their second session and Deanna hoped Seven would be more forthcoming than she had during their first.

Deanna crossed her legs and rested her clasped hands loosely on top of her knee as she watched Seven lower herself rigidly into the dark brown leather bound chair.

"How many times have you visited Admiral Janeway's memorial?" Deanna purposefully allowed her voice to become light and as open as she could make it.

"Twelve times." Seven's answer was automatic before she considered it uncertainly which showed in her voice. "Is that excessive?"

"Do you feel that it is?"

"No."

Deanna smiled gently. "How do you feel when you visit the memorial, Seven?"

"It is difficult to put into words all that I feel." Seven thought about why she felt compelled to visit the construct that had been erected in Kathryn Janeway's honor. It was illogical for her to feel anything when in the presence of the object, but she did all the same. "I am not sure why, but I feel… comfort when I am there. It is strange that an inanimate object can create an emotional response."

"Are there other objects, places maybe, that make you feel similarly to when you are at the memorial?"

Deanna watched with questioning eyes as Seven removed a before unseen chain from around her neck. Attached to the chain was a single light blue isolinear chip.

Deanna picked up the makeshift necklace from the desk as gently as she could. Instinctively she knew that she should be extremely careful regarding the chip presented by Seven. "What is contained in this, Seven?"

"They are personal logs." Seven didn't avert her eyes, but a jaw muscle twitched that showed her unease.

"Whose logs are these, Seven?" Unusually Seven didn't answer her direct question so Deanna tried again though with an even lighter tone. "Are they Admiral Janeway's?"

"Yes. They are from her time onboard _Voyager_." Seven didn't add that she had not been able to retrieve personal logs from Admiral Janeway's database… yet. "They give me… comfort. But they also cause me pain. It is difficult to understand how something can provide both."

"Could you be more specific? Which words cause you pain, Seven?"

Seven considered how she would respond when viewing the logs, seeing Kathryn's image and hearing her voice. She felt an ache in her chest at just contemplating listening to Kathryn's words. "All of them."

"I'm wondering why you watch them then if they cause you so much pain." Deanna carefully handed the isolinear chip back to Seven who took it just as gently in her hands before she put the chain around her neck and hid the chip beneath her Starfleet uniform.

"I feel… connected to her when I watch them." Seven seemed to be grasping for an explanation as her brow creased in concentration. "I—I do not feel so alone."

"That's understandable." Deanna leaned forward in her chair, her voice and expression compassionate and open. "Seven, sometimes when we lose someone we love it's consoling to have something to remember the person by, to hold on to so that we don't feel like that person is truly gone."

"Gretchen said Kathryn will always be a part of me." Seven brought her metal mesh covered hand to her chest above where the isolinear chip rested against her skin. "That I hold Kathryn in my heart. I understand that to mean my love for her will never vanish even though she has ceased to be. If that is true then how do I 'carry on'?"

"I encourage you to give yourself time to come to terms with Admiral—with Kathryn's death." Deanna's kind smile didn't quite reach her dark brown eyes. "Though I would agree with Gretchen that Kathryn will always be with you."

"How do I move forward when my thoughts are preoccupied by her constantly? It is… difficult to function this way." Seven's voice trailed off uncertainly at the end.

"I know you're feeling… discouraged, but there isn't any set time that grieving ends. You'll always remember Kathryn, how important she was to you, but hopefully with time the sharp pain you are feeling now will lessen. That you'll find more comfort than pain in her words."

"What of the guilt?" Seven's voice lost its fragility as her eyes narrowed with her own self-loathing. "Will that lessen as well… over time?"

"It can. Especially if you can get to the root of why you feel guilty." Troi's voice never lost its professional objectivity, its lightness, its compassion. "Do you feel responsible for Kathryn's death?"

"I was the one who carried the Endgame Virus."

"Yes, but who allowed its deployment?" Troi knew what Seven was going through aside from losing someone she loved. She was experiencing survivor's guilt. "It wasn't you was it, Seven?"

"No."

"Then who was it? Who allowed the Virus to corrupt the Borg systems if it wasn't you?" Deanna's voice was kept gently probing. "What was it that she said to you before you were… before she pushed you out of the Hive Mind?"

"She said… 'thank you, Seven'." Seven could feel hot tears form, but she kept them at bay with clenched fists and a rigid posture.

"What do you think she meant by that?" Deanna watched as the forever composed woman before her was unable to stop a single tear from escaping and rolling down her flushed cheek.

Seven knew exactly what Kathryn Janeway had meant, she knew full well both the overt and underlining feelings the woman had experienced right before she had been destroyed. Seven inhaled a deep shuddering breath as she ordered her thoughts and modulated her voice to hide the pain those last thoughts from Kathryn Janeway still caused.

"She—did not want to exist as the Borg Queen but knew she could not return to humanity. She had been… traumatized by the experience. By what she had been forced to do by the being that possessed her, used her." Seven's burning anger punctuated each of her words as she thought of the grotesque monstrosity the Borg had created out of Kathryn Janeway after they had mutilated her body and disfigured her mind. "She wanted the Borg Queen to be stopped, by me. I held within my body the instrument that killed her, and she thanked me. She was grateful that it was me who would be the one to stop her. She was… beautiful and unafraid. And despite what the Borg had done to her… I loved her, unconditionally. I tried to stay with her, to die with her. I thought that would be somehow right, but she would not allow it. She forced me from the Hive Mind. She forced me to survive. To live without her. To 'carry on'."

"You sound angry, Seven." Deanna tried not to sound surprised and worried that she had failed. But the vehemence from the usually impassive woman took her off guard.

"She never told me." Seven's voice lightened perceptibly due to Deanna's observation. "She had loved me. Been in love with me. For a long time. And she never told me."

"Do you feel anger because she never told you or because you never told her?" Deanna's voice was so nonjudgmental she almost sounded indifferent. Internally however she knew this was going to be Seven's break-though. Deanna knew from others that Seven was almost obsessed with efficiency, but this was almost impossibly fast progress. She wasn't going to stop it though.

"I do not know what you mean." That much was clear on Seven's bemused expression.

"Why do you think Kathryn never told you how she felt?" Deanna observed the perplexed look on Seven's face for a few more moments before she decided to add more than she usually would to lead Seven into a revelation. "Do you think she was… afraid?"

"Kathryn Janeway was not afraid of anything." The certainty in Seven's voice was so fervent it surprised even her. She looked self-conscious for a moment as she sat even more rigidly before she composed herself once again. "Why would she have been afraid to tell me?"

"I'm not sure, Seven." Deanna had to remind herself that Seven had spent the better part of eighteen years as a Borg drone and so her patience increased immensely. "Some people hide their feelings for fear of getting hurt, of being rejected, or they worry that they are placing themselves in a vulnerable position. You must have had a reason why you didn't tell her how you felt."

"On board _Voyager_ I did not believe she would be willing to embark on a relationship with me." Seven looked contrite as she recalled who she had sought out as a poor substitute. "I also feared that she would not return my feelings. So instead I began to 'date' Chakotay shortly before _Voyager_ returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Our liaison ended before the homecoming celebration. I had decided that I needed to experience living on Earth independently and that our association was not what I desired. At that point Captain Janeway became an Admiral. The Borg virus, Admiral Covington's treachery, the holographic rebellion, and insuring Icheb and my freedom occupied much of her time. After which she became increasingly distant. More… difficult to contact. In the last sixteen months we have only spoken on forty-seven separate occasions, thirty-nine of which were regarding strictly Starfleet related issues. On _Voyager_, we used to speak daily about a multitude of topics and played Velocity once a week. I… missed her constant presence."

"Do you believe she distanced herself purposefully?"

"I—I am not certain." Seven thought back to what the Borg Queen had said to her the first time she had seen what Janeway had been turned into while on the _Pride_, Grim Vargo's vessel.

"There is no reason for me to desire release. All is clear now. How… lonely I was. How very alone. Now you are alone. How do you tolerate it?"

Seven's chest was suddenly gripped with painful regret. She hadn't known that Kathryn Janeway felt lonely, that she was being harmed by her own enforced solitary, if Seven had known she would not have had allowed Kathryn's self-imposed seclusion.

Deanna used her training to preserve her professional demeanor, but she couldn't help but feel the other woman's grief. "Seven?"

"I left her." Seven's icy blue eyes were alight with new awareness. "She never told me because I abandoned her. I wanted to show her how far I had progressed as an individual. I wanted her to be proud of me. I thought embarking on a romantic relationship, seeking my independence would… impress her. I had assumed she distanced herself from me, but it was my doing. I left her alone."

"Seven, you are carrying around a great deal of guilt and regret. From what you have told me so far I don't believe Kathryn Janeway would… understand why you feel this way. She seemed a woman who chose her own path, controlled her own fate." Deanna leveled her brown gaze at Seven knowing the other woman wouldn't benefit by a soft touch. "I'm not suggesting that what you're feeling isn't allowed or what you truly feel but I want you to try to let go of your shame and guilt because no one blames you, but you."

Deanna was startled when Seven swiftly and unexpectedly stood up from the plush leather chair. Seven's stance was rigid, but nonthreatening. "Our time has expired. I must return to Starfleet Academy."

With an understanding nod, Deanna also stood.

"I will… see you tomorrow, Commander Troi." Seven nodded once as a departing gesture before she left the office.

Seven's shoulders moved minutely, which along with bright wide eyes was the only outward indication of her discomfort. She unconsciously pressed her hand to her chest where the isolinear chip was hidden as she walked out of Starfleet Medical into the bright San Franciscan sunlight. It was at that moment as she walked past various Starfleet personnel and cadets alike towards the large metal structures, which made up the campus of Starfleet Academy that she finally had the realization that as unjust as it seemed, life went on.

A shuddering breath expelled powerfully from Seven as she passed the tall pillar. She couldn't help it, she stopped, turned back and then stood before the monument. She brushed the palm of her right hand across the etched lettering before she let her hand drop by her side. She contemplated the words Commander Troi had advised her with. They angered her, but she couldn't deny that there was a certain truth in them as well.

"No one blames you, but you."

Gretchen had said something similar as Deanna Troi and Seven tried to accept both women's pardoning words, but it was difficult since she still felt responsible. She just didn't know how to stop blaming herself. Perhaps she never would. And was it relevant if she did or didn't. Kathryn Janeway would still be gone and Seven of Nine would remain as she was now, alone.

CHAPTER 12

_The_ _Einstein_

The vessel traveling towards the Delta Quadrant used to be a Nebula-class Federation starship, but now looked more like a Borg probe since its entire outer hull was covered in the intricate network of circuitry and green lights that bespoke Borg technology. The occupants within also used to be part of the Federation, but like their ship they had been assimilated by the Borg, their organic bodies embedded with metal implants and nanoprobes infiltrated every part of their inner workings. They were Borg. And they had a mission.

The drone who had been Captain Howard Rappaport peered through the milky green fluid to the being inside the specially constructed maturation chamber that was laid horizontally on a strong titanium pedestal three feet off the floor. When he had been Rappaport he had thought the physical appearance of the being beneath the transparent aluminum had been attractive when she had been human, though imposing, but now he knew what he felt for her. Love. His hand rested on the transparent barrier as if he could touch the being laid beneath it as he and the rest of the small collective onboard the Borg vessel vowed that they would succeed in their mission. Despite their circumstances and limited power they would be successful. They would bring Her back.

CHAPTER 13

_San Francisco _

Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres walked steadily across the bustling campus, which was made much easier since most people tended to make room for the compact though fiery woman. She adjusted the strap of her engineering kit as she cataloged all the things she still needed to do before she could return to her Starfleet issued apartment where her husband and baby girl were presently enjoying his shore leave. After all that had happened she was happy and relieved to see the both of them smiling again. She sighed as she forced herself to overcome the growing feeling of sorrow that threatened to break her stride, especially when she saw the tall gleaming pillar of marble and the eternal flame glowing at the top that was Kathryn Janeway's memorial.

Now B'Elanna regretted agreeing to give the Doctor's mobile emitter a check-up for she had successfully managed to avoid the monument to her former Captain for nearly two weeks. Kathryn Janeway's memorial service had taken place twelve days ago, and B'Elanna still thought the whole affair was against everything Janeway had been about. The woman did nothing for the pomp and circumstance. Janeway did what she did because she thought it was the right thing to do. All those Admirals, some B'Elanna was sure were just there for the PR and photographs, had made her stomachs turn with their faux sympathy and their overly planned speeches. She knew she hadn't been the only one bothered by the ceremony since her husband had been in an uncharacteristic rage when they had returned to their apartment. He hadn't yelled or thrown things around like she tended to do, but he had been quiet, his face flushed, and he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything before he had slept the next day away and began coming out of his bad mood.

Before B'Elanna realized her actions, she was standing in front of the white marble structure with her fingers brushing over the engraved writing.

"Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade, and yet the menace of the years finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul."

The pads of B'Elanna's fingers brushed over the word "captain" slowly as emotion filled her chest with a burning sensation caused by a mixture of anguish and affection. "Well, Captain, you got us home. We just didn't know what to do once we got here. We didn't know what to do… without you."

"Commander Torres."

Startled, but regaining her steadiness quickly, B'Elanna turned slowly to meet Seven's questioning icy blue gaze with her own dark brown eyes. "Seven."

Seven of Nine could be said by many as not being B'Elanna Torres' best friend. They had butted heads on several occasions when they had both been onboard the then lost _Voyager_ and had nearly come to blows a few of those times, though it most likely would have been B'Elanna who would have thrown the first punch. But as B'Elanna looked at the woman before her now she barely recognized the cold, brusque, arrogant woman with her tightly coiled hair and obnoxious biosuits that Seven had been on _Voyager_. Seven looked almost fragile, definitely vulnerable, and less coifed than B'Elanna had ever seen her. Seven's blonde hair was thickly curled and tied back pragmatically though crudely into a ponytail. The Starfleet uniform still clung to her curvaceous form but not as overtly as the biosuits she had last worn nearly three years ago. Aside from the implants above her left eye, next to her right ear, and on her left hand Seven looked… human. Seven onboard _Voyager_ certainly never had that haunted look she had now.

The rather broken expression on Seven's features and the way a hand covered her chest as if in pain or protecting something fragile beneath shattered something within B'Elanna. She couldn't dislike Seven anymore as she once had. They had both lost someone important to them, B'Elanna had lost two, and in that pain they were the same. She refrained from touching the other woman but she did adjust her features to one of openness, of friendship.

"How are you doing, Seven?" It was a rather insipid question, but B'Elanna wasn't sure how to begin. The look Seven was giving her was starting to make her feel uneasy and self-conscious.

"I am functioning." Seven looked past B'Elanna to the multitude of notes, pictures, flowers, and other gifts that had accumulated around Kathryn's memorial and something hot burst in her chest.

"What the hell are you doing?" B'Elanna pushed the woman back and was grateful that the memorial had been placed in a rather secluded area a distance away from the busy campus. She hadn't been able to stop Seven's initial anger as flowers that obscured some of the white marble were thrown aside.

"These… people did not even know her. Their feelings are false." Seven shrugged off B'Elanna's hold, but did not continue her aggressive action.

"Yeah, that's true but that doesn't mean she didn't spark something within them. She was a great hero for the Federation. I'm sure she's an inspiration to a lot of people, Seven. And besides, she did save humanity after all. A few flowers are pretty small thanks when you think about it." B'Elanna's good-natured smile faded quickly since she could see Seven was rigidly maintaining her resentment.

"I wish to be alone." Seven's dismissal was clear as she stood in front of the monument and pressed her palms against the cool marble with its embedded lettering.

B'Elanna's dark eyes flashed with anger as her fist and jaw clenched tightly. She thought of where she was, what they were standing in front of and forcefully pushed away her aggression. As she started to move away she couldn't help but turn back to look hard at Seven who had her back to B'Elanna. "She wasn't just for you, Seven. You weren't the only one who lost her."

Seven didn't turn anything but her head, sunlight glinted off her metallic implants. Her voice was cold and low. "You know nothing of what I have lost."

"Maybe that's true." B'Elanna took a few steps closer, conscious that they weren't that far away from campus. "Seven, you should talk to someone. It could help."

"I am already… talking to someone. It is not helping." Seven's fingers brushed past the letters she had touched a multitude of times before and each time she did she felt a burning heat grip her chest with sorrow.

"What about me?" The suggestion was out of B'Elanna's mouth before she had time to really think about it. But she did want to help. And perhaps it would help her as well.

The shifting of Seven's eyes indicated that she was contemplating the question. When she turned back completely to the monument B'Elanna knew she had failed.

"Commander Torres."

B'Elanna turned back to the monument to see Seven facing her fully. She watched a conflict take place across Seven's features before apparently the woman had formulated her words.

"B'Elanna. I… appreciate your offer." Seven's optical implant rose as she moved closer to the half-Klingon Commander. "You loved her?"

"Yes. I did." B'Elanna watched Seven nod minutely before she stopped to stand in front of her.

"She loved you in return." Seven's eyes lifted as she summoned up the multitude of entries Kathryn Janeway had logged while on _Voyager_ that had been about B'Elanna Torres. Seven felt no jealousy for she knew that the love Kathryn had for B'Elanna had been different than what she had felt for her. "She had found a daughter in you and in her you found a mother. Did you know how proud she was of you, B'Elanna Torres? How much love she felt for you?"

B'Elanna ignored the tears that were falling from her wide brown eyes. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "How do you know all this?"

Seven smiled a sad, small smile while she pulled the isolinear chip free of its confinement beneath the fabric of her Starfleet uniform. She kept the chain around her neck as she held up the lone blue piece of plastic and circuitry. "She told me."

"Seven… what is that?" B'Elanna had a pretty good idea of what was probably contained on that data chip and she didn't know whether to be excited at the wealth of information or to reprimand Seven on issues of decorum and privacy.

"They are her personal logs while on _Voyager_." Seven detected need in B'Elanna's dark eyes and despite her eidetic memory she was reluctant to do what she knew she should. With a soft sigh of resignation she carefully and slowly pulled the chain from her neck. "There are 2447 logs contained within and it will take you approximately ten days to watch them all."

"Seven… I—I can't watch these. I won't." B'Elanna held the chain away from her as she rejected Seven's offer. "They aren't for me."

Bemused, Seven took back the makeshift necklace. She held the chip in the palm of her hand as insecurity caused her voice to be sharp. "You believe it is wrong for me to have these."

B'Elanna shrugged noncommittally. "I'm not sure, Seven. I just know I can't. I'm… ill-equipped to see her. To hear her voice. At least for the time being. If they help you… cope then no, I don't think there's anything wrong with that. Do they? Help, I mean?"

"At times."

"Yeah, I figured." The corners of B'Elanna's lips pulled up for only a second as she nodded in understanding.

"Doctor to Commander Torres."

B'Elanna had almost forgotten why she was even at the Presidio. She slapped her combadge with some force. "Torres here."

"I might have the patience of a hologram but I do have other things to do today, Commander."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes at the irritation heavy in the Doctor's voice. "I'll be right there. Torres out."

B'Elanna had been about to ask Seven if she wanted to see an old friend, but the other woman had already moved away from her to stand close to the memorial and B'Elanna knew she had already been forgotten. Unobserved she moved away but not before she swore to herself that she would attempt to talk to Seven again within the next few days. Who knows, it might do them all some good to not distance themselves from each other and the memory of the woman who had brought them all together.

CHAPTER 14

_The Delta Quadrant_

"Report!" Neelix's voice boomed through the Alixian Command Deck positioned in the center of the Talaxian Asteroid Cooperative. He moved quickly to the display that showed the outlying sectors of their territory.

"Sir, the proximity alert in Sector Twelve," The young Talaxian at the command console tried not to let her fear show in her tone. But when the display cleared of the interference she couldn't help but feel a cold rush of terror that colored her voice. "It's Borg!"

"Red Alert!" Neelix powered up the shield grid as the others carried out defense protocols.

"Sir, they're… hailing us."

Neelix tried to prepare himself for the sound of the Borg as he made his command as fearlessly as he could manage. "On screen."

The man who appeared on the large display made Neelix let out a heavy breath of relief before he realized this individual wouldn't be here unless something dire was occurring.

"General Korok."

The imposing Klingon nodded his acknowledgment of Neelix, but he didn't and wouldn't ever have time for pleasantries. "There is an assimilated Federation vessel cutting a path through the Delta Quadrant. We must speak with Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine immediately."

A dark cloud of sorrow passed over Neelix's countenance before he put on an air of professionalism in front of his crew. "I—It is unfortunate that I must inform you that Kathryn Janeway was killed defending Earth from the Borg eighteen days ago."

Korok nodded once in condolences. "A mighty warrior."

"Yes." Neelix fought back the tears that threatened to fall as he cleared his throat. "We have two hours until contact will be made with Starfleet Command. You are welcome to come aboard our asteroid to tell us what has occurred."

"Agreed." Korok pressed his hand against the Borg panel before he transported in a phasing of green lights from his sphere to the Alixian Command Deck.

Neelix gripped as strongly as he could the other man's right forearm as his own was clasped in a hand still covered in metal mesh similar to Seven's. Aside from his hand and the large ocular implant that covered where his right eye used to be Korok looked as most Klingon did. Powerful and imposing, but somehow regal as well. The black thick outfit he wore, Neelix supposed sadly, probably covered up more implants that hadn't been able to be removed.

"What's happened, General?" Neelix led Korok to a more private setting than the command deck as he forewent the pleasantries he figured the other man would have no interest in.

"Two days ago one of the Resistance scout ships detected a Federation signal in the Nihydran Empire. The signal came from a Nebula-class starship marked _U.S.S. Einstein_." Korok handed a Borg data node to Neelix. "The battle was recorded and transmitted to the rest of the Resistance before the scout ship was destroyed by the Einstein. It—engulfed the ship."

"What do you mean 'engulfed'?" Neelix went to the transmission unit to transfer the information contained within the node to his own Talaxian systems.

"You shall see soon enough." Korok's voice was ominous and rumbling.

Neelix watched with stunned silence as the small Borg probe seemed to be literally absorbed by the assimilated Starfleet vessel. He let out an exhalation when the former Federation ship suddenly increased in size and energy output. "My gods, what is this?"

"It is beyond assimilation. We have never seen anything like this before." Regret filled Korok's gruff voice as he turned off the visual feed. "We have sent a contingent of our vessels to intercept it, but we don't know what we are dealing with. We are hoping that Seven of Nine will provide us with strategic information."

"I—I'm sure if she knows anything… she'll want to help." Neelix was still in mourning from the loss of Kathryn Janeway and now he was shocked once again by what he had just seen. He had thought he had heard the last of the Borg after _Voyager_ had dealt it a crippling blow by destroying a transwarp hub. He regretted that he was wrong. And then he had a sudden realization. Seven hadn't said anything about the _Einstein_ and either she had deemed it unnecessary to mention or she didn't know.

"It is… unfortunate your captain is dead, perhaps she would have insight as to how to handle this new Borg threat as she has had in the past." Korok thought back to the diminutive Starfleet captain that had allowed herself and two of her crewmembers to be assimilated by the Borg in order to liberate those like him who had been able to maintain their individuality in the dream world of Unimatrix Zero. Captain Janeway had been successful and now hundreds of Borg vessels across the galaxy were under the control of the Resistance.

Neelix could only manage to nod his head in agreement. He still couldn't come to terms with the fact that Kathryn Janeway was dead. That the Borg, who she had triumphed over numerous times alone, on a small scout ship, and unaided by anyone, would be able to get to her within the supposed safety of Federation space. That the indomitable woman he had known and loved dearly was gone. He cleared his thoughts as he told himself that wallowing in his own grief wouldn't help Korok or the rest of the Delta Quadrant. He reminded himself of four simple words: What would Janeway do? "Let's get all the tactical information regarding the Einstein ready for transmission. Eleven minutes doesn't give us a whole lot of time."

"Agreed."

Not for the first time, Neelix wished the _Voyager_ crew were still with him. He could just imagine the whole senior staff together again working out this dire new problem. He smiled a little as he imagined himself there as well. If only that intrepid crew were in the Delta Quadrant now. "General? How quickly could one of your cubes get to Earth?"

A bemused look marred Korok's features before he nodded and laughed loudly in appreciation before he replied surely. "Within twenty-two hours."

Neelix smiled as he thought yes, this is what Janeway would do. Join the fight, damn the consequences.

CHAPTER 15

_The Einstein_

"Extraction from maturation chamber 001 complete. Removal of irrelevant bio-matter in progress."

The baritone voice that emanated within the Borg vessel seemed almost excited.

Two watched while the sounds of a cutting laser resonated throughout the small chamber. He stood a distance from the slab that was now covered in blood and other bio-fluids. The laser had done its job and now a pair of drones, one who used to be Mark Wacker and the other who had been Andy Brevoort, cleared the metal platform of the excess biological matter before they departed from the chamber to dispose of it. Two smiled, the generation was nearing completion.

Two experienced what could almost be classified as sexual pleasure as he watched robotic arms assemble the familiar and desirable form of his Queen. The head and upper torso that remained flaccid on the table fitted with the necessary bionic components including the red lit spinal cord was all the organic components necessary to allow the Queen to function. The completely synthetic form was soon joined with the partially organic upper torso and head by the robotic arms. Metal clamps soon embedded themselves into pale flesh made sickly green by the lights of the chamber.

Two smiled as a pair of thickly silver glassed eyes opened.

The Borg Queen returned his with a raise to her own lips as she rolled her shoulders and became accustomed to her new body. It was built stronger than any of the previous queens. She gleamed silver like a tactical cube and green lights imbedded in black mesh flickered across her slim mechanized body. She moved with a deadly grace and she felt intoxicated by the strength, the renewal she felt. She had been resurrected, but this time she was better, stronger, and faster. And best of all that troublesome voice that had so recently been her downfall was no longer there. She was free. To feast.

CHAPTER 16

_U.S.S. Voyager_

"Sir?" Lyssa smiled as the transmission began to clear up and Neelix looked down at them from the large display. "We have contact."

"It's good to see you, Ambassador." Despite the smile of greeting and friendship Chakotay still held a heavy sadness in his chest that darkened his eyes.

Neelix had spoken his condolences days before, but he still allowed a sympathetic expression to grace his features before he turned to the matter at hand. "Captain, I'm sure you probably remember General Korok."

The Klingon moved within the imaging field, his voice boomed within the walls of the Astrometrics lab. "There is an urgent matter I must discuss with Seven of Nine and Starfleet. A vessel, designation _U.S.S. Einstein_, arrived in the Delta Quadrant two days ago. One of our scout ships intercepted it and it was… absorbed."

"The _Einstein_?" Chakotay felt the impact like a blow to his chest. "We thought that ship had been destroyed."

"I am sending you sensor data recorded during the battle." Korok nodded his order to someone off-screen before he turned his attention back to the shell-shocked captain. "We must coordinate our efforts to combat this new Borg threat. A Resistance cube can be in Sector 001 in less than twenty hours."

Cold dread landed in the pit of his stomach before it radiated out and clenched his chest. Chakotay brushed away his own feelings of fear to address the issue as he should as a captain. "General, I need to run this by Starfleet command. They don't take kindly to having Borg technology anywhere close to Federation space."

"Time is important, Captain. This new Borg vessel could undo everything the Resistance has accomplished. And if we fall then the quadrant will and it would not be long before they return to yours." Korok allowed his eyes to drift to the countdown clock. "You have six minutes to convince Starfleet command."

"Lyssa, contact Admiral Nechayev, priority one."

"Aye, Sir." Lyssa Campbell worked the panel efficiently despite the terror that was making her hands shake. "I—I have her. Patching her through."

The blonde haired woman with narrow Slavic features appeared in the central frame of the display while Neelix and Korok were in a much smaller box in the bottom right hand corner. Chakotay hated to admit it but Admiral Alynna Nechayev intimidated the hell out of him, not to mention his own residual animosity towards her from his time with the Maquis, though he kept any of these emotions hidden as he addressed her as respectfully as he could manage.

Nechayev's sharp blue eyes narrowed as she contemplated what the present captain of _Voyager_ had just told her. The _Einstein_ had survived and seemed capable of what the Borg cube had displayed. Absorption rather than assimilation, which was faster, cleaner, and more efficient. And that ship was now traveling rather aggressively through the Delta Quadrant where the majority of the Borg were located. If that ship gave that ability to the remaining Borg vessels it would be only a matter of time before the entire Delta Quadrant would fall under Borg rule and then they would come back to Federation space and finish what they had started when they had changed Kathryn Janeway into their Queen.

"Tell General Korok to proceed." Nechayev thought back to the old idiom: fight fire with fire. Who better to fight the Borg than former drones? As reluctant as she was to admit it, Kate had been right about Seven of Nine being an asset. Now General Korok and his comrades would assist the Federation in stopping the Borg threat. Once and for all. "I want the coordinates of the rendezvous site within the hour, Captain, I'd suggest a low-trafficked area. Tell Korok that the _Enterprise_ will intercept the cube. Nechayev out."

"Bring Neelix back."

The frame that enclosed Neelix and Korok grew until it filled the middle of the screen once again. "Starfleet has agreed. We'll need to set up a place to meet your cube. The _Enterprise_ will rendezvous with you."

"Captain, if I may make a suggestion?" Neelix practically raised his hand as a clever smile graced his lips.

Chakotay smiled at where Neelix suggested. It seemed only fitting. "Good thinking, Ambassador."

"Captain? Thirty seconds."

"Korok, assemble as much information on the _Einstein's_ movements as you can. Try to avoid contact until we can figure out a way to counteract their absorption technology." Chakotay was aware of Lyssa quietly counting down. "We'll be in touch tomorrow, Ambassador. _Voyager_ out."

"Lieutenant Campbell, contact Deep Space Nine. I need to speak with Captain Kira as soon as possible." Chakotay felt a surge of purpose fill him with anticipation as a quieter, more insidious feeling erupted within him: vengeance.

CHAPTER 17

_Deep Space 9_

"Captain, we are being hailed by _Voyager_."

"The _Voyager_?" Captain Kira allowed surprise to show for only a moment before she stood from her command chair to move next to Asil. "Put them through, Lieutenant."

"Aye, Sir." Asil tapped a few controls before she moved away from the screen to ensure the subspace communications antennae was working optimally. She disregarded her own curiosity as a man she had only met twice before appeared onscreen. The last time she had been in his presence was at Kathryn Janeway's memorial service.

"Captain Chakotay." If Kira thought it strange that a former Maquis leader and a former member of the Bajoran Resistance were both wearing Starfleet captain's pips she didn't indicate as such. "What can I do for you?"

"We have an impending situation that I need your help with, Captain." Chakotay took in the red-haired woman displayed on the large holographic screen. He almost smiled at how far Starfleet had progressed that two rebels like Kira and him could become captains. "The Borg cube that was destroyed eighteen days ago had an adjunct vessel, which we thought had also been destroyed. The _U.S.S. Einstein_ is wreaking havoc in the Delta Quadrant. If that vessel makes contact with the rest of the Borg the Collective will gain unimaginable power."

Kira Nerys digested this information as she did everything else, quickly and without an overindulgent amount of emotional reaction. "Understood. How can we help?"

"There is a Resistance against the Borg. One of their leaders, General Korok, is en route to the Alpha Quadrant with a cube under his command. We need traffic to DS9 to be kept to a minimum." Chakotay already liked the woman before him, no-nonsense and determined. He ignored the sudden pain in his heart of how she reminded him of someone else. "The _Enterprise_ will intercept their vessel at Sector 47 in twenty-one hours."

"The Badlands." Kira nodded her head in understanding. A Borg cube, despite who controlled it would cause massive panic throughout the Federation. "It'll take some time, but I'll make it work, Captain. Is there anything else we can do?"

"Yes. Keep a docking pylon open for us. _Voyager_ will be there in ten hours."

CHAPTER 18

_San Francisco_

"Seven of Nine…"

"Admiral?" Seven smiled as soft, gentle hands roamed over her naked body. Her excitement at the touch caused her voice to come out breathy and low. "Kathryn."

Seven's heavily-lidded eyes took in the woman above her. The shoulder length auburn hair was mussed and fell over Kathryn's bare shoulders. Dark blue eyes, filled with desire and want, burned into Seven with as much intensity as the other woman's hands were trailing heat across her flesh.

"I love you, Kathryn." Seven's breath caught in her throat as two fingers brushed over her over-heated and moist flesh. The overwhelming pleasure caused her eyes to close of their own accord as her long, pale body arched like a bow.

"You are mine, Seven."

When Seven opened her eyes again she screamed. It was not a scream of pleasure.

"Warning: regeneration cycle is incomplete."

Seven took great gasps of air as she pushed herself away from the alcove that flashed green lights across her small living quarters. On uncharacteristically unsteady legs she rushed to her bathroom with one hand over her mouth and the other pressed against her unsettled stomach. After the contents of her last meal were disposed of she used a cleansing unit to remove the foul taste such a violent excretion left her in her mouth. She felt a new wave of sickness rush over her, which caused sweat to breakout across her skin despite the cold feeling dispersing through her body, when she thought about what she had just experienced in her dream, her nightmare.

Seven entered her shower still feeling the vile sensation of metal fingers embedded within her. When she closed her eyes and let the hot, almost scalding water, flow over her convulsing body she sobbed in anger and disgust. She could still see the Borg Queen looming over her, smiling a mutilated version of Kathryn Janeway's bright grin, as the woman she had loved pressed hard metal against her soft flesh.

"Seven!"

Time had stopped for Seven of Nine. The world had fallen away as she relived her violation in the solitude of her shower stall. She had long since stopped sobbing, but with her arms clutched around her knees she still rocked back and forth. It wasn't until the water stopped its unrelenting pounding against her flesh and strong hands pulled her to her feet that Seven realized she had lost herself. For how long, she didn't know.

"Seven? What happened?" After she called for the computer to turn the water off, B'Elanna Torres pulled a large towel around Seven's form as she gently, but determinedly moved the woman from the shower to the end of the bed in the adjacent room. "Seven? Can you hear me?"

Wide blue eyes shifted to B'Elanna's concerned expression. Seven looked at the features of the other woman silently for a moment before she spoke in a voice devoid of all emotion. "I had a bad dream."

If Seven wasn't scaring her so badly, B'Elanna would have laughed. But knowing Seven as she did she knew this "bad dream" was more than that. "Do you want to tell me about it? Sometimes that helps?"

As she watched B'Elanna settle gently on the mattress next to her, Seven pulled the towel closer around her form. She contemplated ordering B'Elanna to just leave her alone, but the truth was Seven didn't want to be left and the other woman's real presence was comforting.

"Kathryn was… making love to me."

A new understanding dawned on B'Elanna as she realized Seven's love for Janeway hadn't been like hers. Instead of a mother Kathryn Janeway had been an almost lover to Seven. B'Elanna almost yelled at the tragedy of it all, but instead she nodded her head, shaken as she was somehow she wasn't that surprised. She kept silent as Seven continued without the quiet reverence.

"When I opened my eyes again she was not Kathryn, she was the Borg Queen." Seven's grip around the terrycloth increased as she recalled the maniacal grin the Queen had possessed on the features that used to be filled with humanity and love. "I ended her violation of me when I disengaged from my alcove. I can still… feel her."

"My god, Seven, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." B'Elanna wasn't just sorry about Seven's horrific nightmare. She was apologizing for the bastard that was fate. And for Seven's own subconscious that would conjure such a horrific display. Not for the first time B'Elanna thanked whatever power existed that she had not seen Janeway so mutilated. The powers hadn't been as kind to Seven.

"I do not wish to dream again." The towel fell away as Seven stood from the bed. Indifferent to her nudity, Seven went to the outer room to her communications array. A red light indicating a priority one message deterred her from contacting the Doctor.

Her metallic optical implant rose as she saw who it was from. She opened the message to find the rather unfriendly face of Admiral Alynna Nechayev looking back at her. She barely acknowledged the robe that was placed around her standing form by B'Elanna before the half-Klingon sat at the desk behind her and the wall mounted computer interface.

Seven let out a breath to calm herself before she pressed the control to play the Admiral's recorded message.

Not one for pleasantries Nechayev explained in her commanding way what she wanted from Seven of Nine due to the new set of circumstances created by the existence of the _Einstein_. Under Nechayev's order Seven was assigned immediately to the _Enterprise_ and was to be the Starfleet liaison to General Korok and the Resistance. In lieu of a visual message, Seven sent a written priority one message that simply read: "Accepted."

B'Elanna had watched with barely suppressed disquiet as Nechayev laid out the circumstances in which an alliance would be formed between the Federation and the Resistance movement, a group of freed former Borg drones that she, along with Tuvok, Captain Janeway, Seven and the rest of the _Voyager_ crew who had been lost in the Delta Quadrant had helped set in motion. The fact of the matter was if the _Einstein_ were to connect with the rest of the Borg Collective the entire galaxy would be in peril. Every defense the Federation had attempted had all been summarily dismissed by a single mutated cube. B'Elanna didn't want to imagine what would happen if thousands of cubes like that one converged on the Alpha Quadrant. Earth would fall in a matter of seconds.

"I must leave." Seven moved past B'Elanna into her bedroom to don a Starfleet uniform and pack a few items into a carrier bag.

B'Elanna, still seated at the desk, contemplated her life with her husband and daughter. It was a cozy existence, almost overly comfortable. She thought about the regret she had felt when she hadn't been fighting side-by-side with her former Captain. How she would always be haunted by the idea that perhaps she could have helped in some way. That Janeway could still be alive. She stood as Seven reentered the main room. B'Elanna's dark eyes held the conviction that also showed through her gruff tones. "I'm coming with you."

CHAPTER 19

_The Einstein_

The Queen stood in her chambers fully restored to her rightful place. As Two approached her she brought her fingers away from her mouth and tongue.

Two almost appeared to want to kneel before his Queen, but he was Borg after all so he merely stood rigidly in front of her. "She is ready."

The right corner of the Queen's pale lips raised in a grotesque approximation of the smile the woman she had once been would often wear as evidence of satisfaction. "Then let us begin. From whence it came."

CHAPTER 20

_U.S.S Voyager_

"Is it just me or does it seem crazy to anyone else that we're actually, voluntarily going back to the Delta Quadrant?" Tom Paris didn't add that he wasn't too keen on the idea of his wife being part of this mission as well, which was mostly why he was incredulous as to _Voyager's_ place in this operation.

When B'Elanna had contacted him two hours ago to inform him that she was accompanying Seven to the Enterprise he had tried everything he could think of to stop her from going. She had scoffed when he had told her it was far too dangerous of a mission. She had been outraged when he had told her she lacked the expertise. He had even tried to use Miral, who was presently with his sister Moira, to guilt her into not going. That had been the last straw and she had ended the transmission with a few not so flattering things to say about his manhood.

"_Voyager_ isn't necessarily going with the cube, but we have information that no other Federation vessel has." Captain Chakotay was seated at the head of the table and even after a year of being the commanding officer of _Voyager_ he still felt at odds with the position. In his mind _Voyager_ would always be Kathryn's ship. He allowed only the faintest amount of grief to affect him as he looked gravely at his senior staff. "I want each department to compile all the data we have on the Borg and the Delta Quadrant. Jarem, I need you to contact the Doctor. He knows more about nanoprobes and combating assimilation than anyone. Not to mention the neurolytic pathogen he devised that killed one of the Borg Queens. Harry, I need all the sensor data regarding the ablative hull armor and the transphasic torpedoes, not everything could have been destroyed by the Department of Temporal Investigations. Lyssa and Vorik, if the Federation is going to the Delta Quadrant they need to know as much about it as they can. Get to work on creating a territorial layout of the Quadrant including species that _Voyager_ has encountered both hostile and friendly. We'll need allies if things turn bad. Tom, I need the Delta Flyers prepared for transport if need be and the interfaces to be more Starfleet ready. You know what I mean. We'll be docking at DS9 in six hours so use all your people on this. Dismissed."

After a smattering of "aye, captains" Chakotay was left alone in the conference room. He tried not to think about how many times he had sat in this room as Captain Janeway's first officer. How he had spent years watching her command her crew with just the right mixture of authority, warmth and humor. He tried not to envision her, to feel the pain of seeing her in his mind's eye affect him and he managed to succeed for about ten seconds after a few shuddering breaths.

Despite not wishing to feel the pain that thinking about Kathryn caused him, Chakotay couldn't help but wonder what she would think of his rather passive-aggressive inclusion into the fray. He doubted she would be very impressed. She probably would have told Nechayev that despite the fact that _Voyager_ was and always has been a scout ship not made for heavy combat or deep space missions it was joining the Resistance cube, damn the torpedoes full speed ahead. And what was he doing, compiling reports.

He rubbed away the moisture from his face before he exited the conference room to the captain's chair. He imagined her seated where he was and him in the empty first officer's chair to the left. Her voice filled with determination and just the faintest hint of trepidation sounded in his mind.

"Guess I'd better be going huh?"

He looked at her then and for the first time he saw her quaking under the weight of what she was about to do. He knew she was facing one of her greatest fears, but he also knew that wouldn't stop her in the least.

"Anything you'd like done around here while you're gone? Gravity plating recalibrated, carpets cleaned?" He tried not to show his own fear as he lifted his voice to a humorous tone. The thought of what could happen. How the mission to free the renegade Borg of Unimatrix Zero could go wrong. How he could lose the woman, who he had loved for so many years, to the Borg. What stopped him from voicing any last minute objections was the fact that she was doing what she knew was right. She was helping people in need.

He stood as he always did, with her. He was surprised when she held her hand out to him, but he didn't hesitate for a moment in grasping it with his own. He perhaps squeezed a little too forcefully, desperately, as he tried to commit this moment to memory for it quite possibly would be the last time he ever saw her.

"Surprise me. You have the Bridge."

With her voice still sounding in his head, Chakotay was startled back to the present by Ensign Lang's clear alto voice from the Ops station.

"Captain, Klingons off the port bow." Despite the alliance between the Klingons and the Federation there had been nervousness in Lang's voice. A Chancellor-class heavy cruiser would have that effect on the sturdiest of Starfleet officers. She almost sighed in relief when a light flashed on her control panel. "They're hailing."

"On screen." Chakotay stood from the command seat unconsciously echoing a move Captain Janeway had done a million times before. He walked to the helm where he instructed Ayala all stop.

Even as far as Klingons went, the captain who appeared onscreen was daunting in his size. Not for the first time Chakotay was glad to have the mighty race on the Federation's side.

"_Voyager_, I am Captain Klag of the _I.K.S. Gorkon_." The deep baritone voice resonated through the absolutely silent Bridge of the Federation Starship. "We have come to join you in battle."

"I see." Chakotay wasn't just startled by these sudden allies, but also the fact that the Klingon Defense Force had been made aware so quickly the Federation's plan to join with the Resistance against the Borg in the Delta Quadrant. And that the Klingon Empire extended such a consideration as to send such a mighty vessel. The answer to all of his questions came in the petite form of a Starfleet admiral.

"Captain Chakotay, the Klingon Council has deemed the _Einstein_ a threat to the Empire. They've agree to send the _Gorkon_ with the cube to the Delta Quadrant." Admiral Nechayev's voice was explanatory, but there was something that seemed hidden beneath her casual tones.

Perhaps, Chakotay considered, it was a bit of anxiety due to the mission or the fact that she had twenty large battle-ready Klingons in her midst. Somehow Chakotay thought it was the former since she didn't seem that put-off when Captain Klang absently brushed past her to the imager.

"Captain, no member of my crew has ever fought the Borg. Tactical data will need to be transmitted to ensure that my warriors are prepared for the threat these… machines pose." Klag's tone almost seemed hesitant. The usual bravado was gone.

The Empire had been left in ruins from the Dominion war. And due to the recent Tezwan conflict the Empire had barely been able to rebuild to its previous power. The Klingon Council had seen from a distance the devastation one lone Borg cube had been able to accomplish and had been suitably aware that they could not stand against such a threat alone though they had no desire to allow the Federation to protect them as if they were defenseless animals. There was no honor in that.

"Of course, Captain." Chakotay already felt a kinship to the other captain. They were of different species of course, but their motivations were exactly the same. The safety of their crew, their people. "Actually, we could show you."

"Computer initiate program Fort Knox Alpha One."

The gray metal room lined with yellow grids vanished only to be replaced by a holographic display of the interior of a Borg sphere. The program had been created as a representation of a damaged sphere that the crew of _Voyager_ had stolen a transwarp coil from nearly five years ago.

Chakotay ignored his own disquiet at being just within a simulated Borg environment. He could tell the Klingon Leaders and Bridge officers following him through the belly of the sphere were alert, but not apprehensive though they did hold their holographic weapons at battle-ready.

"Prepare yourselves." Chakotay held his phaser pointed to a power distribution node. "Firing."

The red phaser blast destroyed one of the power nodes, which immediately alerted every single drone within the simulation that there was a threat onboard the sphere. One which the Borg converged on in force.

"Don't fire until you have to or they'll adapt!" The group Chakotay led that consisted of Captain Klag and his Leaders and senior staff dispersed as a hundred and fifteen drones walked in their slow, but menacing way towards them. Their unhurried steps seemed to indicate that they thought no threat was too great for their numbers, which was usually the case.

Bat'leths and mek'leths flew high and true. The cacophony of the ensuing battle filled the simulated Borg environment. And at the very moment the Klingons thought victory was truly theirs, despite how the muscles of their backs and shoulders were fatigued from forcing metal into metal for the last twenty minutes, more drones entered the fray. This time there were more than a hundred and fifteen walking towards them with thousands of lasers flashing across the green tinted area.

The Klingons roared against their eerily silent combatants with their blank expressions and heavily scarred sickly pale faces. Some of the warriors regretfully recognized various Alpha Quadrant species within the mass of machinery and distorted flesh.

Each time a Klingon warrior fell or was assimilated he was immediately taken out of the perceptual subroutines of the program. Many of those who had fallen would rub their necks as surreptitiously as they could though it was an insistent motion that didn't dispel the feeling of two thin tubes entering their necks. The horror was in what they would quickly become if the reality around them was real. Or the very real truth that the Borg, despite their slow motions and sluggish fighting abilities, were a great threat posed mostly due to their ability to adapt, their immense numbers, and their unrelenting strength of purpose that would never be deterred.

The regenerative shield that protected the drones from all but the very first blasts from the Klingon disruptors should not have surprised the cadre of warriors due to their study of the Borg, but it did. Energy weapons were again discarded and more physical assaults with bladed weapons was heavily favored due to their effectiveness. The drones were strong, but even they began to fall beneath the might of Klingon strength. But it wasn't enough. More drones came and more warriors fell, until eventually every Klingon was taken out of the simulation. With great honor Klag was the last to be expelled.

"Computer, end program." No one, not even his closest friends, would have been able to detect in Chakotay's even tones what the last half an hour had cost him.

Just being in a simulated Borg sphere made Chakotay think about her. Not Kathryn, but the being which the Borg had perverted her into. He could not imagine a more horrific hell for Kathryn Janeway than what had been her fate. She had been the Borg Queen responsible for the death of thousands of lives and he knew the Queen had gained glee from it. He had hoped that Kathryn would have been relieved of the knowledge of what was transpiring by the thing that possessed her body and mind but he knew from Seven that she hadn't been spared that mercy. That was perhaps a worse reality than her death. That she had full knowledge of what she had been forced to become. Her worst enemy became herself and she wasn't even given a fighting chance.

"Captain Chakotay, that your crew bested these machines is a testament to your strength as a warrior." Klag walked tall and imposing next to _Voyager's_ captain as the other man led him and his warriors through the overly lit corridors of the small Federation vessel.

"Not my strength." The response was filled with both pride and regret. "It was Captain Janeway who had been the… she was the mightiest warrior I have ever known."

"Jane-way." Klag had only once encountered the diminutive Admiral, but he had seen strength in her that made him nod his head in understanding. He thought back to the encounter that had occurred shortly after the Tezwan incident had been resolved.

The departure of the _I.K.S. Gorkon_ from Deep Space 9 had been delayed under the orders of a Starfleet admiral which the station's captain had little choice but to uphold despite Klag's vehement protests against such a sign of mistrust. He had been making his protests quite known to Captain Kira when the admiral who was responsible for his stay made her presence known.

"Captain Klag, I'm Admiral Janeway."

If Klag thought this tiny human would be intimidated by his imposing mass, he was mistaken for she came within a hair's breadth of his standing form. He nearly took a step back himself.

"I'll get right to the point, Captain." Her husky voice was as cold as her steely expression and unwavering gaze. "In the last few hours three Starfleet ships have been fired upon by vessels that belong to the Klingon Defense Force. Revenge for the 'stealing' of Kahless."

"The _Gorkon_ has fired on no Starfleet vessel." Klag was actually offended that Starfleet would have so little trust in him especially considering that the "Kahless" these renegade captains were defending had been a false being, a hologram.

"Yes, I know. That's why your ship is still in one piece." Janeway's tone wasn't so much threatening as it was matter-of-fact. "Chancellor Martok sees these captains as rebels and promises they will be dealt with accordingly, which is where you come in. The _Bej'jog_, _JorwI'Hegh_, the _QueloDmI_, and the_ NaS'puchpa'_ are all considered enemy vessels. Their captains are to be apprehended and brought to Qo'noS."

"One Qang against four Vor'chas would be a short battle." Klag was glad that none of his crew could hear his admission.

"I'm aware of that, which is why I've brought a few friends along with me." There was a glimmer of humor in Janeway's blue-gray eyes despite her expression remaining neutral as she handed him a small gray PADD.

Klag's dark eyes widened as he took in the number of Federation warships that would be assisting him in capturing the renegade ships' captains.

Admiral Janeway possessed a small lift to her lips when he returned his eyes to her. "They won't know what hit them."

And in fact the four renegade vessels hadn't been adequately prepared for the onslaught the squadron of Starfleet warships led by Admiral Janeway and the _Gorkon_ along with its sister vessel the _Kravokh_ had dealt them. Klag had been correct in predicting the battle would be short.

"You knew her?" Chakotay shouldn't have been surprised. Kathryn Janeway had her hands in more things than Chakotay had ever known any admiral to, and she probably had dozens of other operations he wasn't even aware of.

"Briefly. We fought side by side in battle." Klag thought back to some of the maneuvers that had been executed by the Defiant-class vessel the Admiral had been on. "She was unusually… without fear."

"Reckless," Chakotay smiled in his sudden feeling of kinship with the other captain. "I believe is the term."

Klag nodded in kind before he recalled a significant piece of information he had received from Krytak, one of his Leaders, eight days prior. "I regret that she is unable to join us in the battle to come."

Unable to stop the heat in his chest from expanding and catching his voice in his throat, Chakotay could only nod in agreement and thanks for the note of sympathy in Klag's baritone voice.

"We will drink in her honor." Klag clasped the other captain's shoulder in fellowship. "Then you will tell me all you know of these… Borg. How Jane-way led the _Voyager_ into many battles and came out victorious against such a foe. And what it is that awaits us in the unknown quadrant where we will gain victory or die in battle."

Chakotay had tried not to commit himself or his crew to journeying back to the Delta Quadrant despite the great threat within it. But as he looked upon the determined visage of Captain Klag he knew he had made the decision the moment the communiqué with Neelix and General Korok had ended. He knew Klag would probably agree that there was little honor in hiding safely in the Alpha Quadrant waiting for others to maintain that security. And what was more honorable than fighting to avenge the death of a loved one? That was humanity's greatest strength against the Borg. Emotions. Something to live for, to fight for, to die for. That was why resistance was far from futile.

CHAPTER 21

_The Hierarchy _

Despite the screams of terror and pain that emanated from the brown masses garbed in dark gray overseer uniforms, her voice rose above the sounds of the Hierarchy being summarily slaughtered by dozens of drones, some of which used to be their own people.

"Resistance…" The Borg Queen smiled broadly as she watched the bloody massacre unfold. "Is so wonderfully futile."

CHAPTER 22

_The Enterprise-E_

"Welcome aboard, Doctor."

"Thank you." The holographic commander smiled broadly at the red-haired CMO of the _Enterprise-E_ as he stepped off the transporter platform. He extended his right hand in greeting and respect, which Beverly Crusher shook without hesitation.

With a brisk pace, Doctor Crusher led the way from the transporter room to the turbolift that would take them to her sickbay. "The _Enterprise_ will be rendezvousing with _Voyager_ and the _I.K.S. Gorkon_ at Deep Space Nine in five hours. In the meantime I'd like to see the specifications for that neural suppressant you devised."

"Well, I can't take all the credit." The Doctor smiled what he hoped was a humble expression. "It was Axum, one of the members of Unimatrix Zero, who created the nanovirus. I just modified its program to nullify the cortical inhibitors that suppress individuality after assimilation."

"In any case, we'll probably need it."

With a rather troubled nod of agreement, the Doctor remained silent on that point. "I've also brought the specifications for the neurolytic pathogen a future me invented. It's what the Admiral Janeway from the future had used to infect the Queen so that _Voyager_ was able to destroy the transwarp hub."

Beverly detected the barest hint of sadness in the Doctor's proud tones. And aside from feeling empathy for his recent loss, she wondered at the authenticity of his emotions. If she hadn't known he was a hologram she would have just assumed he was human like her. Like Data, he had outgrown his original programming and despite his composition the Doctor was a Starfleet officer with the same privileges and responsibilities afforded to any who wore the uniform.

"Quite a feat of engineering by your future self, Doctor."

The Doctor smiled quite boastfully as he was led into the sickbay. "Yes, it was, wasn't it."

"Look at them." Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres rolled her eyes as she regarded the small team of engineers in the midst of integrating Seven's regeneration unit into the _Enterprise's_ power relay system. "It's as if they've never seen a Borg alcove before."

Seven was either ignoring her or didn't hear her for she remained silent and still. B'Elanna figured it was the former. The other woman had been leery about bringing an alcove onboard the _Enterprise_, but had seen the necessity of it which overrode any apprehension. And considering the fact that the _Enterprise_ itself would be transported to the Delta Quadrant within the belly of a Borg cube the Starfleet crew had better be a little less jumpy about Borg technology if this alliance with the Resistance and the overall mission were going to be successful.

The soft hum of the alcove and the green flickering light it created across the small guest quarters indicated that despite the engineers' own trepidation regarding Borg technology they did their jobs well.

Kaplan tried to maintain an even, professional tone as he addressed Seven of Nine and Commander Torres. "Energy output at thirty megawatts and stable."

"Acceptable… thank you." Seven had almost forgotten the note of gratitude that for some reason seemed important for her to have remembered before the doors to her assigned living quarters closed behind the quartet of engineers glad to be away from the horrific green light of the Borg.

"How're you holding up?" B'Elanna received an irritated look from Seven that someone who hadn't been on the receiving end of as much as the half-Klingon had might have withered tremendously under. "Yeah, that's about what I figured."

The venom in Seven's aggravated expression lessened considerably and turned to mild surprise when B'Elanna did something she had never done with Seven in all the years they had known each other.

Seven's metallic occipital implant raised in bemusement as she gazed down at the dark mass of hair positioned underneath her chin. "Commander Torres, what are you doing?"

"I'm… hugging you." As if slightly surprised by her own behavior, B'Elanna quickly extracted herself from what she had in fact initiated and took a few steps away as she crossed her arms across her chest. There was a flush to B'Elanna's cheeks either from embarrassment or frustration or both.

"I… appreciate your concern, but it is unnecessary." Seven kept her voice even, but gracious. "This mission is my first priority, my welfare is irrelevant. We must succeed."

B'Elanna cooled her emotions completely as she nodded her head in understanding and agreement. If this mission failed, humanity would fall. "In that case, let me take a look at your specs for this… thing you've been working on. What's it called?"

"The Infinity Modulator." Seven moved away from B'Elanna to her makeshift workstation.

A free-standing, silver flat-panel monitor rose up from the desktop when Seven activated the small control panel embedded in the desk. After she entered her access codes thirty thousand gigaquads of information flooded the computer screen.

"Catchy name." B'Elanna's tone was as sardonic as her grin as she moved to the desk and seated herself in front of the monitor. Her dark eyes grew big while her grin faded completely. She paid Seven a look of utter astonishment before she turned all of her attention back to the complex information on the screen. "Is this even possible? The energy output alone is immense. I'm not sure how long a hand-held weapon like this would last until it completely exhausts its power cells."

"Forty-two seconds."

B'Elanna's incredulous expression matched her voice as she turned to look at Seven. "Forty-two seconds?"

"I am working on extending that time." Seven looked almost abashed, as if she had been expected to pull off a near impossible feat already.

"I'll bet." B'Elanna turned back to the monitor to examine the data with a critical eye on increasing the energy stores. A thought struck her and she wondered why it hadn't occurred to Seven. "What if we decrease the plasma flow to the phaser emitters by a factor of ten?"

"Set the phaser to stun?" Seven wondered worriedly why she hadn't thought of that. And then she realized why she hadn't. She wanted the Borg to be dead, all of them. She tried to maintain a neutral tone lacking any emotional resonance. "It would be more efficient if we were to destroy the drones immediately."

"But we wouldn't have to, would we?" B'Elanna almost couldn't believe what she was saying. Less than five years ago she would have been happy to see the entire Collective destroyed, all the drones killed, but now she didn't have that bloodlust within her and frankly she thought she was better for it. "It'd be enough if they were just taken out of the picture, right? Enough time for us to beam out if we do end up boarding the _Einstein_."

Seven paused as she waged an internal conflict regarding the fact that she thought the destruction of Borg drones would be wanted and beneficial. But there was a certain logic to what B'Elanna Torres was saying. Forty-two seconds was not by most people's perception a very long time. "The seventy percent decrease in plasma flow will enable us to utilize the Infinity Modulator for forty-seven minutes before the power cells are completely depleted."

"How long will it take to construct a prototype? It's not like we have a whole lot of time." B'Elanna knew the _Enterprise_ only had a little over four hours until it reached Deep Space Nine and then _Voyager_ would be there waiting for them so that they could devise a strategy, a plan, for a threat they had very little information on other than it seemed to have developed to have the same absorption abilities as the Borg cube that had threatened Earth and the Federation only eighteen days ago.

"We can assemble the main components utilizing the replicators while on the Enterprise within three hours." Seven entered a series of commands which enlarged the internal structure of the weapon and brought it to the forefront. A distinct green hue emanated from the interior of the Infinity Modulator. "However, Borg components are necessary to complete the power distribution array and to reinforce the structural integrity."

"Let's hope the Resistance likes to share with others." The Commander's voice had a cutting tone before she grunted derisively.

B'Elanna questioned whether the Resistance would be fully cooperative with giving technology to Starfleet since they hadn't given _Voyager_ a transwarp coil even after Captain Janeway and her crew had risked their lives to free thousands of drones. Well, B'Elanna had to admit, the sphere only had one functional coil and it would have left Korok's vessel at a major disadvantage if he had given it to them. Captain Janeway had known this and that's why she hadn't asked for it or anything else in compensation.

"General Korok will do what is in the interest of the Resistance." Seven shrugged without moving a muscle. "With his assistance construction of the Infinity Modulator will be completed within the time it takes us to reach the Delta Quadrant."

"Well, I've been doing a bit of research myself." B'Elanna handed Seven a PADD which contained the schematics for a silver colored hand-held weapon labeled as The TR-116 rifle. "It was decommissioned by Starfleet Security, access to it was restricted to top brass until the Tezwan incident and it and the TR-120 were brought back into service for Starfleet's peacekeeping interim on Tezwa."

Seven's eyebrow rose as she read the data. A weapon that fired a projectile of tritanium bullets instead of nadion particles wouldn't work on tactical drones whose infrastructure are constructed of the same alloy, but it would be the best possible weapon against standard drones. Although unlike B'Elanna's modification of her Infinity Modulator; the TR-116 would most likely be used as a lethal weapon. Seven appreciated that.

A voice sounded in Seven's mind as she followed a rambling B'Elanna Torres from the guest quarters. A voice that was so full of vehemence it hardly sounded like Seven of Nine. The voice told her that there was nothing but death for the Borg. That she should seek them out and make the Collective pay for all that they had taken from her. That she should destroy them all. No matter what.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 23

_Ledos_

The Overlookers' bug-like rust-colored ships enhanced by Borg technology that covered their hulls with black circuitry and green lights descended over the energy barrier that protected the Ventu from their technologically advanced brethren the Ledosians. The dome of protection around the hunter-gatherer society quickly crumbled under the onslaught of phaser fire.

Two beings appeared in a flash of green light on the coastline of a stream with three waterfalls gushing into its clear depths. The beautiful landscape was ignored by both of them. Instead their attention was on the curious people who approached them tentatively.

"Ledosian ships are approaching." The being that had been known as Captain Howard Rappaport, now designated "Two", turned his attention away from the group of technologically primitive but physically noteworthy beings to his queen awaiting her instructions.

"Destroy them all. I have no use for them." The Borg Queen never took her eyes off the young creature who gazed up at the Queen as if she was somehow familiar.

The Borg Queen had once been known as Kathryn Janeway, so she possessed memories of how Chakotay and Seven had crash landed upon this planet and how Seven had taken an unexpected interest in the wellbeing of the primitive Ventu. This young girl might have facilitated that interest which in turn intrigued the Queen. Anything having to do with Seven of Nine, who had been hers for eighteen years, interested her.

"Come closer." The Queen motioned with one silver hand for the young girl to approach her.

The girl traced the gleaming circuitry of the Queen's hand as if remembering something that had greatly affected her. The Borg Queen for her part smiled. To the untrained eye it seemed a gentle, kind expression.

The twenty-one green lights that appeared across the clearing startled the Ventu. But they had no route of escape since Borg drones now encircled them.

"Assimilate them all." The Queen held the little girl who had lost her curiosity and now bore an expression of abject terror. The pale lips of the Borg Queen lifted to show the delight she felt regarding the trembling fear she had reduced the young Ventu girl to. The Queen pressed the girl close to her body, seemingly wanting to push the girl into the silver and liquid black of her torso. As the young Ventu screamed in agony and horror the Borg Queen did exactly that.

Gleaming silver panels lifted away from the Queen's torso to enable the tar like substance to reach out with thick viscous tentacles to pull the little girl into the dark abyss of the Borg Queen's depths. Unlike the _Einstein_, the Queen did not increase in size but was nourished in much the same way. The little girl's body was quickly dissolved within the black substance which in turn gave the Queen enhanced strength and access to the young girl's memories.

"Seven."

Images of a disheveled Seven of Nine flashed across the Queen's mind's eye. One side of the Borg Queen's mouth was quirked up as she reveled in the beautiful visions the little girl had given her. "My Seven, oh how I can't wait to tell you what became of your little friend."

CHAPTER 24

_Deep Space Nine_

Captain Kira Nerys didn't allow any of the trepidation she felt show on her features or in her stance as she stood rigidly in the command center of the Cardassian made space station positioned on the edge of Federation space. Kira watched on the large display monitor as two Federation starships and one Klingon battle cruiser were shown at station ready on the outskirts of the Badlands.

"A transwarp corridor is opening."

Kira appreciated Asil's unemotional tones as she watched unblinkingly as the screen displayed the green illumination growing brighter, which denoted the imminent arrival of a Borg vessel. Despite having the knowledge that the massive Borg cube was under the control of an ally against the Collective, Kira couldn't help but feel uneasy as she watched a green lit tractor beam first pull the _Enterprise-E_ into the bowels of the cube, then the _I.K.S. Gorkon_, and finally the _Voyager_.

Kira silently said a prayer for safe travel as she watched the transwarp corridor reopen. The cube might as well have never been there it was gone so quickly. She turned her attention to Asil.

"Lieutenant, encrypt all visual logs of the cube's existence near the Badlands." Kira knew the Vulcan didn't need to be reminded, but the hardedge to her voice told Asil she was not to speak of this to anyone. The last thing the Federation needed was mass panic. They would have enough problems to contend with if this mission failed. Hell, Kira mused begrudgingly, there probably wouldn't even be a Federation to worry about for very long if the Borg gained similar power the cube that had engulfed Pluto, destroyed a Starfleet Armada, and threatened Earth had possessed.

Asil hadn't said much to Kira regarding her leave to attend Admiral Janeway's memorial service, but the captain was astute enough to know that despite the Lieutenant's unemotional façade the Admiral had meant a great deal to the Vulcan woman. Kira had heard through the constant murmurings and gossip that circulated throughout the space station that Janeway had been killed while onboard the cube that had almost destroyed Earth. Something about the scenario and the lack of information didn't sit right with Kira. She couldn't say exactly why, but she felt there was more to the story than just the newsfeeds that said simply that the great and legendary Admiral Janeway had been lost in battle with the Borg.

Kira hadn't thought it proper to ask any of the _Voyager_ crew, and Captain Picard certainly wasn't a man who provided any information he didn't very intentionally want you to have. But she knew there was something more, something that the high brass in Starfleet wanted to keep secret.

Captain Kira could think of nothing that could have happened to Admiral Janeway, certainly not the circumstances of her demise, which would warrant such high secrecy. As she left the control room to go to her office in order to sign off on a dozen PADDs to get Deep Space Nine open for business again, Kira's keen mind kept gnawing at the problem.

It was perhaps uncouth of her, but she couldn't let the mystery surrounding the Admiral's death go. If Admiral Janeway had been assimilated, which made logical sense, Kira thought, then why would Starfleet keep that information classified? It wasn't as if the Admiral would have been the first high-ranking Starfleet official to be assimilated. No, there was something more. Kira knew she was missing a big piece of the puzzle. Was the information damning to Janeway or to Starfleet? Kira suspected the latter. She was still cynical despite the fact she wore the uniform and the four pips of a captain.

With her brow furrowed Kira considered what Starfleet would deem so damning to them that they would keep all records of Janeway onboard the cube restricted to only a few high ranking Admirals. It wasn't as if they had ordered the cube not to be destroyed under false pretenses of safety and security. It wasn't as if they knew the cube was merely inactive, lying dormant until Janeway went there onboard the _Einstein_, and that once she was onboard it would activate again. That would have meant Starfleet had sent Admiral Janeway there to take control of an extremely dangerous piece of technology, and the mission had simply gone awry. Even Kira wasn't distrustful of Starfleet enough to believe that conspiracy theory.

So, Kira wondered, what did that leave? Kira considered the fact that so many Federation officials and scientists had studied the thought-to-be-dead cube and had no incident while onboard. But apparently when Admiral Janeway stepped one foot inside the cube it reactivated. Kira could only think of one plausible explanation. The Borg had been waiting for Janeway. But why? And how did the Collective know Janeway would come aboard the cube in the first place?

Kira considered that she didn't know enough about the Borg, or about Janeway for that matter, to truly answer those questions. But she could guess. Perhaps the Borg had sought out revenge. As conflicting as that idea seemed when it came to the unemotional automatons, perhaps that was why the Borg had waited. They had wanted Janeway because she had done so much damage to them in the past. Kira also knew that Janeway wasn't just a freshly minted Admiral and good PR for the Federation, she also had ties to Starfleet Intelligence and ties to more covert operations within Starfleet that the Borg would want to possess. But even if Janeway's secrets were given to the Borg, that hadn't been the Admiral's doing, so why would Starfleet keep her assumed assimilation so ambiguous?

Kira's mind wandered to the information on the PADDs she was signing off on until she realized she didn't quite remember even coming into her office. Perhaps this double-shift she was pulling wasn't sitting well with her. She signed off quickly on the last pile of PADDs before she left her office to call it a day. She had just seen a Borg cube, so Kira figured she deserved the rest of the night off.

The lights of Captain Kira's empty office turned on once again before two brilliant flashes of light heralded the entrance of two men, similar enough in appearance that if they were truly the humans they appeared to be most people would rightly discern they were father and son.

"Playing with Kira Nerys' mind like that wasn't particularly kind, Q." q watched his father shrug his shoulders indifferently. q himself didn't actually care about the Bajoran's mind, but he did care about why his father had gone out of their way to mess with it.

"She's much too inquisitive for her own good." Q reclined further in the leather bound chair as he projected an air of superiority and nonchalance.

Knowing his father didn't require or want a response q stood before the desk, a serious expression gracing the features that he had conjured to appear as though he was a simple bipedal specimen, a human male age twenty-five. "It's begun."

"Son, it's been beginning since the birth of the cosmos." Q's voice wasn't unkind. He was actually quite the proud father. But his son was far too linear in his thinking sometimes. His son was a Q. Time was a subjective term to beings that had the ability to bend it.

"Why can't we just stop it? We could save them." Despite being the offspring of two nearly omnipotent immortal beings q still didn't understand the Q way of thinking at times.

"And be reduced to single-celled organisms?" Q scoffed as he removed his feet from the desk so he could stand haughtily. "Oh no, my boy. We are far too important for such a menial existence."

The non-intrusive policy into the lives of mortals was all well and good for the mortals when nothing immensely important and dire was occurring, but the Q's power would help a lot of people if the courts hadn't ruled it a crime against the Continuum to do so on a grand cosmic scale. So instead Q and q had to rely on more minor changes in order to achieve their purpose: to save the galaxy, the Universe, and in turn the Q-Continuum from what the Borg were in the process of becoming. If it weren't for these pesky Federation types, Q might have just let the Universe sort everything out itself but he knew he couldn't leave these mortals to such an ugly fate. It wasn't what destiny had in mind for them. So instead Q and q were players in destiny's match against the disruptions within the chain of fate that had been caused by the assimilation of one minor, arrogant, stubborn, little primate who had simply been known as Kathryn Janeway.

A sometimes insufferable woman that Q regretted was no longer clinging to the mortal coil. He knew he should have warned her of what was coming, but his pride had prevented him. The last time they had spoken she hadn't seemed particularly pleased to see him or receptive to what he had to say. But she was the godmother of q and he had thought a friend of sorts to him. Okay, he considered, perhaps "friend" was an overstatement. They were amicable at least, which was more than he could say about Picard. He should have warned her. Regret for a Q was unusual, so Q tried to shake it off.

"But a lot of people are going to die." q didn't add the fact that someone he cared for immensely already had.

q hadn't been told of Janeway's impending demise. If he had known he'd probably be an Oprelian amoeba feasting on paramecia for he would have surely have found a way to save his Aunt Kathy. It troubled him now that he couldn't find her. Even in death the essence of a person could still be found by a Q. But hers was hidden from him and he wondered why. He had asked his father if he knew. q knew his father had told him the truth when he had answered that he didn't know where she was. Q had looked for her too.

"That's what mortals do." Q shook his head in disgust. Such a short pointless existence and yet the damage a single mortal was capable of causing was devastating. And now the Continuum had called upon their greatest champion, him, to right what went wrong and set things back on track, so that destiny's wheel could keep turning smoothly. They didn't know that he had ideas of his own. It was far too calm in the Continuum as of late. But he wouldn't involve his son in his scheme. If only he could find Kathryn Janeway. Even in death she was without a doubt the most maddening creature he had ever known. And for a Q that was saying quite a lot.

CHAPTER 25

_Resistance Cube 42_

Seven tried to ignore her uneasiness as she walked with General Korok through the bowels of his vessel. It was illogical, not to mention irrelevant, since the cube was undoubtedly under the Resistance's control, though that reasoning didn't lessen her discomfort. Although the only visible sign of Seven's anxiety was her shifting blue eyes.

"Reports from the Beta Quadrant." Korok handed a large red PADD to Seven. "Your mate has been in contact with the fluidic space dwellers. An uneasy alliance is being formed."

"Axum is not my mate." Seven's voice remained icy, almost impassive, but her eyes flashed enough to make Korok nod his head in understanding. "An alliance with Species 8472 is ill-advised. They are vulnerable to modified nanoprobes. The Collective has this knowledge because Captain Janeway had this knowledge."

"Acknowledged, but they could still be an asset in battle, despite their vulnerability." Korok knew, regardless of how Seven's voice had softened and been infused by emotion when she had spoken of Janeway, that the former tertiary adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One would require no sympathy from him thus he did not offer any. "If the Borg destroy this Galaxy it will only be a matter of time before the Collective enters fluidic space to finish what they began. They will join us."

Seven nodded her reluctant assent. "When will the Infinity Modulator be completed?"

"Within the hour."

"Acceptable." Seven knew the I-MOD, as Lieutenant Commander Torres had coined it, would be the ultimate weapon against Borg drones. Not only because of its constant adaptability, but also because it was a weapon Kathryn Janeway possessed no knowledge of.

The woman who had most recently been known as Admiral Janeway might be gone, but her memories and knowledge were still within the Hive Mind of those onboard the _Einstein_. Seven might have the data of thousands of different species, but Janeway had been an extremely able tactician and strategist. All of which worked against the Federation and the Resistance.

Seven attempted to put aside her own feelings, her own anguish and grief, in order to better complete this crucial mission. But being on a Borg vessel despite who was in control of it brought painful memories to the fore in Seven's mind. Seven saw visions of what had become of Kathryn Janeway after her body had been mutilated and her mind pillaged of its valuable information. Perhaps, Seven considered, her rage could be useful in this last great stand against the Borg. She would see that the entire Collective was destroyed completely or die trying. Somehow Seven thought perhaps Kathryn would be proud of how far she had come in regaining her humanity. As a Borg drone she would never have thought in terms of revenge.

"We will reach the Talaxian Asteroid in approximately two hours." Korok led the way into his chambers.

Seven entered the makeshift quarters and noticed that unlike the rest of the vessel individuality infused the dwellings belonging to this man. The décor though was entirely irrelevant. "Admiral Nechayev wishes to meet with you onboard the _Gorkon_ to discuss Borg tactical information. She also wishes to better understand the Resistance: ship placement, armaments, access to transwarp hubs—"

"Starfleet does not trust us." Korok's gruff tone indicated that it wasn't a question. Seven wouldn't have attempted to dissemble anyway.

"Yes. They do not entirely trust me as well." Seven knew full well that if it hadn't been for Admiral Janeway's intervention she would most likely be in a Federation prison due to her remaining Borg implants.

Seven and Icheb had in fact almost been killed due to regeneration deprivation during the incident with the insidious Admiral Covington, who had wished to become the Borg Queen. It was Janeway who had rescued Icheb and Seven from certain death when they had been incarcerated within a Federation holding cell. Seven kept the guilt that she hadn't been able to rescue Admiral Janeway in return buried deep within herself. She required her focus to be on the mission.

"I will meet with your Admiral, but no Starfleet or warriors of the Empire are to board my vessel." Korok's crew had been quite adamant regarding "outsiders" being allowed access to their cube. He had been equally opposed to it and so he had instituted that rule once his vessel had reached the Delta Quadrant and deposited the two Starfleet vessels and one Klingon warship into space. Only Seven, who knew full well what it was like to no longer be a Borg drone and yet not entirely an individual, was allowed to step foot onto the cube.

"Understood." Seven set her carrier on top of the metal assimilation platform that acted as Korok's desk. She opened the black case to reveal a hypospray and several vials. "The Doctor's neurolytic pathogen."

Korok held a single vial up for his inspection as he nodded his head, encouraged with yet another weapon to use against the Borg. "We require the formula to this compound."

"We require tactical information regarding the Resistance." Seven's icy stare was unrelenting despite Korok's rather incensed expression.

"Acceptable." Korok wasn't entirely pleased with the exchange, but if every Resistance member could be injected with the neurolytic pathogen that had destroyed the Queen in the Delta Quadrant they would never have to be drones again. That assurance was well worth an information exchange.

"General."

Seven and Korok's attention were both directed to the Vidiian woman who had just entered the General's quarters. Once a phage ridden species, the red-haired former Borg drone was quite beautiful. Something Seven found to be irrelevant and her annoyance at the interruption that would only delay her departure from the Borg cube showed only in her impossibly more rigid stance.

"Report."

"Long range scans are no longer detecting the Talaxian Asteroid." The Vidiian resistance member almost regretfully handed the PADD to General Korok. "There's nothing there but debris."

Seven immediately thought of Neelix, his wife Dexa and adopted son Brax. Her face flushed with anger as she thought about the unborn child Dexa held lovingly in her womb. Seven remember with a growing fire in her chest how Neelix would nearly burst with excitement whenever Dexa's pregnancy was mentioned.

"We will avenge their deaths in battle." Korok nodded his dismissal to the red-haired Vidiian before he turned to an enraged Seven. The movement of the small muscle beneath her silver starburst implant showed her extreme emotional response. Korok's fist collided soundly with his chest as he made his proclamation. "Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam."

"No." Seven stopped on the threshold of General Korok's quarters before she turned her head slightly to address the man with complete conviction in her steely tones. "It is the Borg who will die today. Seven to _Enterprise_, one to beam up."

Seven rolled her shoulders as she stepped off of the transporter pads into the more comforting surroundings of a Federation starship. Her departure from the room was quickly stopped by B'Elanna Torres, who had entered in almost a run.

"Seven! Neelix, the Talaxians, they're all right!" B'Elanna almost grasped Seven in delight and relief, but she thought better of it just in time. "They evacuated the Asteroid as soon as their sensors detected neutrino emissions. They're hiding out in a T-class nebula near the Uxali planet."

Relief washed over Seven in an awesome wave. "That is good news."

"You bet your ass it's good news!" B'Elanna did have to wonder why the Borg would bother destroying an unpopulated asteroid belt, but her need to tell Seven about the Talaxians outweighed every other concern. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yes." Seven relaxed her stance before she let the anger and grief that had invaded her entire body to dissipate into nothingness. "I was momentarily… disturbed by the report that the asteroid had been destroyed. I am functioning adequately now."

"Good." B'Elanna didn't touch Seven despite her wish to provide some modicum of comfort, so instead she did what she knew the former Borg wanted most. She studiously ignored Seven's emotions. "What I can't figure out is why the Borg would destroy an unmanned asteroid array in the first place. Does that make any sense to you?"

"No." Seven's brow furrowed as she followed Commander Torres from the transporter room. "It does not."

Seven and B'Elanna rode the turbolift silently as both contemplated the oddness of the efficient-minded Borg Collective acting decidedly inefficient. They were quite aware that the assimilated vessel once known as a Nebula-class starship had a considerable lead on the Resistance/Federation coalition and yet it would seem that the Borg were making little stops on their way. Doing what and why, no one knew.

The hairs on the back of B'Elanna's neck rose as anxiety filled her petite, but sturdy frame. She just couldn't figure out why the assimilated _Einstein_ hadn't reached Borg territory yet. If B'Elanna didn't know better she would have thought the _Einstein_ was waiting for them, luring them somewhere. For what purpose, again no one knew, but B'Elanna assumed it wouldn't bode well for them once they did catch up with the assimilated starship.

Despite Seven's extensive knowledge of the inner-workings of the Hive Mind, she still couldn't figure out why the Borg manned starship would find it relevant to destroy the Talaxian asteroid belt. Seven recalled an ancient Earth story where two young children, siblings, used breadcrumbs to lead them from a dark forest to their home. It was as if the Federation and the Resistance were the children, but instead of markers leading them home the food items were instead laid out to direct them deeper into the dark foreboding forest.

The turbolift doors opened audibly onto the bridge of the _Enterprise-E _to emit Seven and B'Elanna. Worf, who was seated in the captain's chair, only gave them a brief glance as the two women made their way to the captain's ready room.

"Enter."

B'Elanna had barely stopped Seven from just barging into Captain Picard's ready room. She released Seven's wrist as the doors slid open.

"General Korok has agreed to meet with Admiral Nechayev onboard the _Gorkon_." Seven stood rigidly, her chin held high and the last of her discomfort vanished to be replaced by her sense of duty to the mission, to Admiral Janeway. "He has agreed to give us tactical information regarding the Resistance in exchange for the Doctor's formula for the neurolytic pathogen."

The tea cup held close to Picard's lips was soon set down as he stood from his chair to address the two women before him. He smiled minutely as he nodded his head in satisfaction. "The Admiral will be pleased."

Seven didn't voice her opinion that Admiral Nechayev's pleasure was irrelevant. She continued her report. "The Infinity Modulator will be completed in forty-seven minutes. The weapon should be distributed to the Hazard Team first and then as more are constructed to the rest of the crew on all three vessels."

"Agreed."

Seeing a break in Seven's report, B'Elanna stepped forward in order to hand a PADD to Captain Picard. "Report from _Voyager_. Lieutenant Kim hasn't made any headway in the ablative hull armor or the transphasic torpedoes that Ad—that were brought from the future. The Temporal police locked it up tight and destroyed all the records onboard _Voyager_."

"Unfortunate." Picard hadn't missed how B'Elanna had stumbled over and refrained from voicing Admiral Janeway's name despite the fact that it had been a seventy-six year old Kathryn Janeway. However, he studiously pretended not to have noticed.

"Indeed." Seven's voice was flat, seemingly devoid of all emotion, but B'Elanna detected something underneath the impassivity.

It was as if Seven was a simmering pot just waiting to boil over. There seemed to be a dangerous sort of energy around the former Borg drone, one that B'Elanna thought could prove either an asset or a detriment. Revenge was supposedly a dish best served cold, and B'Elanna knew no one icier than Seven of Nine.

"Breadcrumbs." Picard set down the report regarding the Talaxian asteroid array before he regarded the two women before him. They shared the same bemused expression though Seven's seemed almost knowing. "Hansel and Gretel. An ancient Earth text. The Borg are leading us to them. The Alixian. Ledos. The Overlookers. The _Einstein_ is feasting yes, gaining drones, but there's something else at work here. Something decidedly un-Borglike. Wouldn't you say, Seven?"

"They are taunting us." Seven's brow furrowed as she came to terms with the Borg acting so uncharacteristically inefficient. "By destroying places and people _Voyager_ has had contact with. I am uncertain as to why."

"But we might know where they're going next." B'Elanna wondered if they were already too late. "I don't think the Talaxian convoy is safe near Ulaxi. That's where the _Einstein_ will strike next if this is the game they're playing. That is if they aren't already there."

The captain stood as he tapped his communicator. "Picard to the Bridge. Send a priority message to the Talaxians that it is no longer safe for—"

"Captain, the Talaxians have sent a communiqué." Worf wouldn't usually interrupt his captain, but he figured this particular communiqué warranted it.

Picard didn't hesitate to activate the message now blinking on his personal computer. It was a hastily written message that he read aloud. "Ulaxi has been absorbed."

"Captain." B'Elanna disregarded all thoughts of the previous inhabitants of Ulaxi as she turned to the next breadcrumb the _Einstein_ would inevitably leave for them unless they got there first. "We need to get to Quarra."

CHAPTER 26

_Quarra_

Jaffen, Primary Shift Supervisor to the Quarran Power Plant, dropped his work tote tiredly on the floor next to the open door to his spacious, though lonely apartment. The pitch black of the night concealed anything and everything and he was frustrated and perhaps a little afraid when his lights wouldn't activate even after his third command. He was just about to leave to get security when a voice stopped him. That voice had stopped him before with its huskiness, its seductiveness, its power.

"Hello, lover."

Absently keeping the door ajar, Jaffen stepped tentatively closer to the sound of that voice. A voice he had thought for many years he would never hear again. His heart began to race as he carefully took steps further into the darkness. "Kathryn? You're back."

He could see a glinting movement and then she was there, her breath tickled the hairs on the back of his neck as she whispered softly into his ear. "Yes. I've come for you."

And then lips were upon him. Forceful, unyielding lips. Lips that tasted of metal, as if she had cut her mouth and was now allowing the red fluid to transfer to him. He couldn't get enough. He pulled her to his larger form and was delighted to find that she was naked and seemingly more than ready for him. He brushed his hands down the smooth planes of her back and moaned deep in his throat as she moved him towards the blinded windows that opened from their proximity to allow the city lights to illuminate them.

She was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Jaffen had to take a step back, though his determined, almost desperate, grip never left her slim arms for fear of her leaving him again. Her thick auburn hair had grown considerably and now cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, and Jaffen couldn't wait to see the tresses spread out across the pillows of his bed. His hungry eyes roamed across her pale flesh made luminescent from the bright lights of the bustling city outside his window. She was slimmer than he remembered as if she hadn't eaten anything that could be construed as fatty since she had left him almost two years ago. He didn't care. He brushed his hands across her neck and then down to the smooth taut skin of her stomach. Jaffen smiled when she arched her body as he slowly, teasingly moved his hand still farther down.

"Do you want to be inside of me?"

Jaffen thought her voice was oddly steady, almost impassive despite the way the muscles of her lower abdomen were flexing rapidly beneath his hand. "Y-yes. My gods, yes."

"Good."

Jaffen screamed in agony as he tried desperately though ineffectively to break the vice grip she had him entwined in. The pain was nearly replaced by horror as he watched her pale lips turn up into a smile. It so closely resembled how she would smile when they would begin their evenings of passion that he nearly expelled his last meal. It was such a grotesque sight now that her true nature was revealed to him.

"I thought you wanted to be inside of me." Her hands had released Jaffen, but the liquid metal tendrils kept him sufficiently ensnared. Her voice became accusatory as she stood very still allowing the tar like strands to do her work for her. "You liked that, didn't you? Her wet, hot… embrace. You liked how it felt, so different from Norvalian women. Oh Janeway, she did teach you so many wonderful things, didn't she?"

"STOP! Plea—" Jaffen's words were cut off as black metallic fluid rushed down his throat, into his belly, and then to every other part of him.

"Security!" The young Quarran security guard didn't hesitate to detonate the portable lighting unit even as he aimed his firearm at the two ambiguous forms near the window. His mind hadn't been able to make sense of what he was seeing until the single room apartment was filled with light. "My gods!"

It was a woman. She looked almost naked, but the moving black fluid that ran over her slim form made it unclear and really that wasn't the issue. What the black vine-like substance was doing to the owner of this apartment was, and to his horror his hands shook as he fired one shot at the woman. The bullet hit her, square in the chest, but if she felt it or not she didn't show. Instead she walked steadily closer to him, with Jaffen either unconscious or dead suspended high in the air behind her by her moving tentacles. The security guard tried to run, tried to call for help, tried to fire his weapon again, but it was all to no avail since in a split second she had him. Her arm had raised and the security guard didn't know what he was seeing until a rush of thick blackness erupted from her palm and he was dead before he even realized he hadn't fired a second shot.

The ping of a bullet falling to the hard wood floor was the only sound as the Borg Queen slowly digested her meal as if she were a spider and Jaffen an unwitting fly wrapped in her insidious web. She walked to the window to gaze critically at the city streets below that teemed with people who appeared like ants to her. This city, this planet, was unworthy of assimilation, of absorption. She had known this before she had directed her vessel to this planet. Two had carefully, tentatively asked her why she felt the need to go down to the planet when they could just destroy it and move on to the Klingon settlement. Her only explanation was that she had to pay respects, to an old friend.

The Borg Queen smiled from the deep and pleasurable feeling of being sated as the last of Jaffen was dissolved and ingested. The tendrils shrunk considerably in size before she reabsorbed them entirely into herself. For the moment she stood appearing as the human woman she had once been. Curiously she brushed her hands across her recently acquired appearance. Her nipples hardened under the rough touch of her palm and she imagined that it was Seven of Nine whose touch was bringing moisture to the juncture between her legs. She imagined that it was Seven who was now entering that heat with metal encased fingers.

"Soon, my love." The Borg Queen pulled her hands away from her stimulated body. She had much to do before she could indulge herself in such an inefficient manner. More so she wanted Seven to be the one to touch her. The Borg Queen craved Seven. She wanted her. She required her. Seven would come to her, willingly, because the Borg Queen could give her what she most desired: Kathryn Janeway. At least her body. Her soul had been destroyed by the Borg Queen long ago.

With a thought the Borg Queen was back on her vessel. Two was standing to greet her. He almost shook from the pleasure of being in his queen's presence once again. Despite her human appearance, her power emanated clearly to his cybernetic eye and he had no choice but to be utterly devout.

Two had thought he would grieve over the loss of the previous form the Borg Queen had been ensconced in. That form had been gloriously beautiful with the gleaming silver armor and the network of wires that emerged from her skull. He had not hesitated of course to deliver his Queen her new form. In a dark, black pool of nanoprobes she had been birthed and grown. He had seen to her development personally. And when she had matured sufficiently he had presented her to his Queen with pleasure.

The Queen had smiled her appreciation and had deigned herself by touching Two's trembling face with her hand as his reward before she entered the liquid blackness. The sleeping creature within the pool awakened when the Queen had touched her pale face. Both women had smiled identical grins of pleasure as they had pressed their slim bodies, one pale and fleshy and the other silver and hard, against one another. This new being that had awakened had feasted ravenously upon the metallic construct of the Borg Queen in much the same manner and reasoning the Borg Cube had devoured Pluto in its rebirth. After the metal and technologically enhanced biomatter had been completely ingested the newly formed Borg Queen had emerged from the inky depths to Two's enthralled gaze.

Two had watched as the pale, naked form with long, thick waves of auburn hair, bright blue eyes, and a wide grin that showed white teeth had walked towards him all the while the pool of black she had been born and matured in swirled around her as if the tendrils were alive. She was almost more than merely a queen at that moment to Two, she was a goddess.

The Queen's voice brought him out of his reverie as she instructed him to take their vessel to the Klingon inhabited planetoid seventeen light years away.

"We require tactical drones."

The Borg Queen almost wished Janeway was still trapped within her so she could hear her screams as she destroyed everything the captain had done, had accomplished, during her trek through the Delta Quadrant. The incorruptible Kathryn Janeway would be known throughout the Universe as the greatest enemy to humanity. At least those who managed to survive would extol her as such. And the Borg Queen smiled at the vindication she felt against the small being that she now so greatly resembled. Kathryn Janeway had thought she could destroy her. Could turn Seven of Nine against her. That would be her greatest victory over that insufferable human. Seven. She would have her in a way Janeway had only been able to dream about. Seven would be hers. And the Universe would do well to tremble before them.

CHAPTER 27

_The Einstein_

"Bring me the last one." The Borg Queen's voice reverberated off the metallic walls of her chamber as green-tinted lights flashed across her pale naked body.

To the untrained eye, the Queen looked human. She possessed the appearance of a petite woman with long, wavy auburn hair that caressed her narrow shoulders and the smooth planes of her back. Her dark blue eyes contained humor in a situation most would find harrowing and a trace of what could only be classified as hunger. When the door of her chamber slid open she parted her lips to allow her tongue to moisten them before she smiled broadly as if she were meeting an old friend.

"Kohlar." The Queen ran her blue gaze across the form of the formidable Klingon leader who had a rather shocked expression on his dark features. "Your people are mine. As you will soon be."

"Captain Janeway?" Kohlar took in the small human female before him with a mixture of horror and confusion.

The mechanical beings had appeared in flashes of green light throughout his colony. The screams of the Klingon colonists still echoed in Kohlar's mind. The cyborgs had struck fast, were relentless, and the colonists had fallen swiftly under such might and numbers. Though this was the last thing Kohlar ever expected. Captain Janeway assisting such creatures seemed to be the most impossible scenario he could devise, and yet here she was standing before him with the smell of death around her.

"Don't," The Queen moved swiftly. Much quicker than Kohlar knew humans were capable. Her breath stank like the metallic flavor of blood and wafted hotly against his neck as she whispered forebodingly in his ear. "Call me that."

Kohlar tried to remove himself from her grip, but found it impossible to do so. It wasn't just her hands, which were like steel vices upon his broad shoulders, but the black substance that had suddenly appeared on her pale flesh that held him tight. The black tendrils felt hot against his skin as they moved across his body and then around his torso. He was soon completely ensnared in the scorching black material that seemed almost alive.

"What are you doing to—" Kohlar's words were blocked by a hot stream of black fluid that forced its way down his throat, into his belly, and throughout his body. He would have screamed in rage if his lungs and the rest of his internal structure were not being so quickly dissolved.

"Isn't it obvious?" The Queen's black tendrils pushed Kohlar closer to her and she was aroused by the way the bulky man was being pressed tightly against her, into her. "I'm eating you alive."

The final words, the last horror, Kohlar was forced to experience was the Borg Queen's promise that his _kuvah'magh_ would soon join him.

CHAPTER 28

_The Enterprise-E _

"Warning: Regeneration cycle incomplete."

Seven fell to the floor on her knees and the palms of her hands as she pushed the stale, recycled air of the starship into her lungs in heaving breaths. Her shoulders shook as she lifted herself slowly from the gray-blue carpet. Her left hand, encased with the dull silver metal of Borg technology, brushed platinum blonde strands of hair from her sweat-drenched face that was pale from the sickness she felt rising from her stomach to her tight throat. Seven forced the nausea back down as she moved slowly to the replicator located by the door to her temporary quarters.

"Water, twenty-one degrees Celsius."

In a flash of light Seven's command was fulfilled. She took the glass with her as she moved to the three viewports on the opposite end of the room. Seven's icy blue eyes were on the white streaks that indicated the _Enterprise-E_ was moving at warp, but her thoughts were on the harrowing visions she had just experienced in her dream, her nightmare, that had led to the disruption in her regeneration cycle.

The door chime interrupted her reverie, thus the repeating visions that intruded upon her thoughts ceased for the moment. Seven straightened her posture before she turned to meet her visitor with as much poise and impassivity as she could.

"Lights." Seven set the half-empty glass on the nearby dining table before her hands fell to her sides. "Enter."

B'Elanna didn't look away from the PADD in her hand as she stomped into Seven's lit quarters until she realized Seven was standing right in front of her.

"We were wrong." B'Elanna almost sounded disappointed.

In truth she was relieved that the highly populated planet was intact and that their ship's sensors showed nothing untoward. But she had had every assumption that Quarra was the _Einstein's_ next target, so that left the question as to what was. Also the huge question of why the Borg were making these little stops along _Voyager's_ flight path in the first place.

Seven took the proffered PADD and quickly scanned the information while B'Elanna continued her impromptu report. "Long range sensors detected Borg activity, but the planet seems to be fine."

"It would appear that way, Commander." Seven's metallic crescent shaped implant above her left eye rose minutely at the seemingly unrelated piece of news contained within the PADD. The Primary Shift Supervisor to the Quarran Power Plant had gone missing. She wondered if the unsettled feeling she felt at seeing that Jaffen was missing could be her intuition. If that were true she wished it would tell her what it was she was feeing unsettled by.

"It just doesn't make any sense." Frustration added a growl within B'Elanna's low tones as the motions of her hands accompanied her voice. "Why ignore Quarra?"

Seven could feel B'Elanna's eyes on her as she continued to read the contents of the PADD. She shifted her shoulders, irritated at B'Elanna's expectation that she should know the Borg's motivation and annoyance that she didn't. "I am uncertain."

"Hey, are you okay?" B'Elanna's hand paused above Seven's shoulder before she let it drop back to her side. B'Elanna could see Seven's disquiet in the way the other woman's icy blue eyes darted from the PADD to the green-lit Borg alcove and the small muscle that jumped below the starburst implant.

"I—had a nightmare." Seven's eyes only stayed on B'Elanna's worried countenance for a moment before she turned them back to the PADD, though she had already ingested the information within it. It was true that she had found something of a confidant in B'Elanna Torres, but that didn't mean Seven felt any more comfortable speaking of her feelings of fear, regret, and uncertainty to anyone.

"Like—was it like the one you had before we left Earth?" B'Elanna kept her tone soft, gently coaxing, but hesitant as well, careful.

Being a sounding board to Seven hadn't been something B'Elanna had intended. The day she had offered to be one had come as much of a shock to her as it had for Seven. But B'Elanna didn't regret that decision. In fact she was proud that she had made the offer. B'Elanna figured Seven and she would never be best friends, but she knew Seven was in a considerable amount of pain and so compassion was extended whether Seven wanted it or not. Fortunately for both of them, Seven seemed accepting of it, at least to an extent, and had been more forthcoming than perhaps B'Elanna had intended her to be. Especially when it had been revealed to her that Seven had been in love with Admiral Janeway.

"No." Seven followed B'Elanna to the gray couch beneath the viewports. Her hands brushed against the black fabric of her Starfleet uniform as she lowered herself to the couch cushions. Seven's hands remained atop of her thighs as she angled herself towards B'Elanna. "It was not of a sexual nature."

"Okay." B'Elanna evened her voice out though she was relieved that Seven wasn't about to go into any detail regarding something of a 'sexual nature'. "Do you want to tell me what it was about?"

"The Borg Queen existed in my dream." Seven took a deep, cleansing breath as she ordered her thoughts before she elaborated on the visions the night had given her. "She had the same absorption powers the cube had. She was leading the _Einstein_ throughout the Delta Quadrant in order to feed. The Overlookers were the first, then the Ventu. In my dream she went to Quarra. She killed Jaffen. She absorbed him. And then the Klingon colony fell and she absorbed Kohlar."

Seven looked quite pointedly at B'Elanna. She wanted her next words to be heard without confusion. "She looked like Kathryn."

"What do you mean?"

"She appeared human." A shiver ran down Seven's spine as she thought of the smile the Queen had possessed when she devoured the small girl Seven had befriended on Ledos. "She was still the Borg Queen, but also something else. I know you believe the Borg to be evil, but the actions they take have no emotional ramifications to them. This new Borg Queen took great pleasure, physical pleasure, when she murdered. She enjoyed it, B'Elanna. And she looked like Kathryn."

B'Elanna could only nod her head as she digested what she had just been told.

"It was only a dream." Seven stood abruptly, her decision made. She would adapt and ignore the disquieting images that had come to her while she had been regenerating. The Borg Queen was dead. Kathryn was no more. It had only been a dream. Although the reason why she still felt so unsettled was frustratingly elusive to her.

"Seven, I can't imagine how terrible it was for you to—to have to see Janeway that way. To see what the Borg did to her." B'Elanna's rage against the Borg showed in her aggressive tones as she too stood with her fists clenched at her sides. "It's all right to be angry. To be shaken by the experience. And you've been dealing with that all on your own. I just want you to know. Dream or not, you can always—look I'm here all right. Whenever you need me."

"What Kathryn Janeway was forced to become was my worst fears realized, B'Elanna." Seven stood ramrod straight though her head was angled so she looked squarely at the other woman. "It was hers as well. After I released the Endgame virus she—she thanked me. In those seconds before the Borg cube self-destructed I was connected with Kathryn. And I understood everything. In those seconds. And then she pushed me out of the collective mind and was… gone."

Seven's voice had gone quiet, reverent. She turned her face away from B'Elanna as a single tear fell. She was startled when a warm, strong hand fell on her shoulder. Seven looked to B'Elanna and saw a sympathetic expression, also a knowing one.

B'Elanna didn't speak of her mother. How Miral had all but begged for B'Elanna to kill her lest she lose her honor and not be allowed into Sto-Vo-Kor. With love in her heart and tears in her eyes B'Elanna had complied with her mother's wishes. B'Elanna shook away the feeling of her mother's hot, wet blood on her hands as she turned Seven towards her.

"What—in those few seconds, what did you understand?" B'Elanna wasn't sure if her question was quite proper, but her own need to know, her need to understand, overrode propriety. A part of her just needed to know how it had ended. How Kathryn Janeway had ended.

"All that she had kept hidden from us." Seven's voice was soft, but in the stillness of her quarters with only the hum of the starship around them it seemed almost loud to B'Elanna. "How deeply she felt things. How strongly she was affected by always being the captain. How she carried the guilt of her decisions with her. How… lonely she was. How alone she has always felt, especially on _Voyager_. Despite her words of family and of closeness she always felt detached from us. An outcast within a crew of misfits."

"But we—we loved her. We all did." B'Elanna's hand fell away from Seven's shoulder as confusion marred her features and soon seeped into her voice. "She knew that."

"Yes. She did." Even if she had not been connected to Kathryn's mind, Seven would have been fully aware of how much Kathryn had loved her crew through the personal logs she had kept. "She was uncertain if she deserved it."

"That's crazy. Of course she did. She deserved it." B'Elanna's defensive posturing was due to her own guilt and regret that she never truly took the time to say even a proper thank you to Janeway, much less anything else. "Look, at first, when I came to Voyager I was—I resented Captain Janeway for stranding us in the Delta Quadrant. I didn't want to serve on a Starfleet ship, much less under her. When she made me Chief Engineer I didn't trust her. I thought she wanted me to fail. I was wrong. She—she saw something in me that I couldn't. She believed in me and because of that I started to believe in me too. When she—when she died, I thought, the first thing I thought was, how am I going to do this, do any of this without her. I was embarrassed and angry that I needed her so badly. But I did. I needed her strength, her compassion. I needed her to be proud of me. But, you know the thing I realized, Seven? You helped me realize it the day you showed me that isolinear chip, when you told me she had found a daughter in me. She was proud of me. I needed to know that. She was uncertain that she deserved our love, of course she did. If I had known she felt—I wish I had told her, said these things to her, taken the time. And no one was more deserving of it than her."

Seven's gaze was fixed on the moisture that had gathered in B'Elanna's dark brown eyes, the determined glint that accompanied the tears, and the way the other woman's shoulders quaked with regret. One hand encased in metal and the other vulnerable flesh pulled B'Elanna to Seven before the Commander was enfolded in slim, but strong arms.

B'Elanna smiled and laughed softly despite the tears that slid down her cheeks. "Seven, what are you doing?"

"I am hugging you." Seven also smiled at her own words being tossed back at her. When she released B'Elanna from her hold there was no embarrassment, only a smile of gratefulness.

"Seven?" B'Elanna's grin vanished as her voice grew serious, tentative, but sure. "Did Janeway—did Kathryn know you loved her? That you were in love with her?"

"During the three point four seconds we were connected within the Hive Mind, she knew." Seven's own eyes overflowed with hot tears caused by regret and love. She smiled before she answered. It was a soft, small smile that conveyed both the pain and effusive emotions that warmed and constricted her chest. "She said 'thank you'."

CHAPTER 29

_The Beta Quadrant_

"That's not possible." Despite his skeptical words, Axum couldn't deny the thrill he felt at witnessing an astrological event he knew shouldn't be occurring.

"And yet it is happening." T'Hana's left eyebrow rose as the brilliant light being displayed on the circular viewscreen of the command station shone upon her angular, impassive features characteristic of her people. She and Axum were observing the second supernova in less than a day's time in the same sector. It was a cosmological impossibility and yet she could not deny it was occurring against all odds. "Curious."

"Indeed." Despite the distance the Resistance sphere was from the collapsed star, the shockwave caused Axum and T'Hana to move with the shaking of their ship, but other than the minute jolt the sphere remained unaffected.

"We should contact others. Discover if this is occurring elsewhere in the galaxy." T'Hana's Vulcan upbringing was not lost to her despite the time she had spent as a drone in the Borg Collective. Her tone remained even and dispassionate regardless of her interest in understanding this cosmological mystery.

"Agreed."

Within twelve hours three other Resistance controlled spheres and two probes reported that supernovas were taking place in their sectors as well. The sphere captained by Laura Pembroke in the Vega Omicron sector on the outskirts of Federation space reported the occurrence of three supernovas in a seven hour time span. Perhaps the oddest aspect of an already bizarre situation was the fact that after each supernova a star of the same composition immediately took its place and that aside from shockwaves none of the surrounding space was vastly affected.

Curious, Axum knew, didn't begin to cover it.

CHAPTER 30

_The Enterprise-E_

"The Nygeans reported that the _Einstein_ passed through their system fourteen hours ago incident free. So that leaves the question, where are they heading next?" Captain Picard dispensed with pleasantries as the two women he had called to the Bridge stood before him. He removed himself from the captain's chair in order to speak more quietly to Torres and Seven. "I'm afraid the Borg remain two steps ahead of us. The Klingon colony isn't responding to our hails."

"The Borg might've gotten to them already." B'Elanna thought of Kohlar, which caused her chest to constrict in fear and worry that the Borg had already decimated the colony. Her voice displayed her concern clearly along with her uneasiness that Seven's nightmare seemed to be almost prophetic except the fact that the Borg Queen had been destroyed in the Alpha Quadrant.

"I'd like to have that answer sooner rather than later." Picard turned his attention to his Conn officer. "Lieutenant Faur, increase our speed to Warp 9 and continue course to the Klingon colony."

Joanna Faur complied with Picard's order as two words left her. "Aye, sir."

"Captain, the cube, the _Gorkon_, and _Voyager_ have matched our speed." Commander Kadohata's voice was even without a trace of hesitation despite her own revulsion at the fact that a Borg cube, despite who controlled it, was accompanying them through the Delta Quadrant.

Picard nodded his head in acknowledgment. "Commander Torres, Seven, join me in my Ready Room. Commander Worf, you have the Bridge."

After ordering an Earl Grey tea and offering refreshments that neither woman wanted, Picard settled into his chair before he looked at the PADD atop of his desk. "The Quarran shift supervisor, a Mister Jaffen, he was Admiral Janeway's fiancé."

"It was when our memories were manipulated with." B'Elanna wasn't quite sure that information was not already known by Captain Picard, but she felt compelled to explain why Kathryn Janeway had a fiancé in the first place. She felt Seven stiffen next to her upon hearing the name Jaffen and thought she did it also for Seven's benefit.

Picard nodded in understanding. "We know the Borg were at Quarra. Left it untouched, so it would seem. The incident with Jaffen is a point of interest. I hardly think it's a coincidence that he disappeared the same time the Borg orbited Quarra."

"The Borg would not assimilate one individual and leave the rest of the population, Captain." Seven's brow was furrowed as she thought back to her dream. The visions that had contained Jaffen… and Kathryn.

"It seems to me these particular Borg onboard the _Einstein_ are already acting uncharacteristically." Picard took a few sips from his tea cup as he looked pointedly at Seven. She seemed disquieted and he suspected it was about more than just his questioning of the Borg's motives. He decided it was neither the time nor place to discover what that was though.

"Indeed."

"I spoke with Admiral Nechayev." Picard watched Seven visibly though subtly relax at the change of topics. "She met with General Korok onboard the _Gorkon_. They remain suspicious of one another, but the alliance between the Federation and the Resistance appears to be intact with each party exchanging information. We've given the Resistance the Doctor's formula for the neurolytic pathogen. They've given us tactical information. General Korok told the Admiral he didn't understand the behavior of the Borg onboard the _Einstein_ either. Despite their motivations the Borg are killing thousands, destroying whole worlds. We can't remain two steps behind them. Once we reach the Klingon colony you'll transport to the _Voyager_. Work with _Voyager's_ crew. Try to determine where the Borg will strike next."

"Aye, Captain." B'Elanna felt dread creating a heavy feeling on her chest. She suspected she already knew where the Borg were. She thought of the Klingon colonists, their lack of response to hails and hoped it was just due to equipment malfunction.

"Seven, it's not outside the realm of possibility that the Borg captured an individual to act as an intermediary for the Borg." Picard's gaze and voice remained even despite the residual trauma from when he had been assimilated and turned into Locutus of Borg who had spoken for the Collective at the Borg Queen's urging. "As I said, it seems highly unlikely that Jaffen's disappearance is merely a coincidence. If I'm right, there remains the question as to why the Borg onboard the Einstein would single him out. Do you have any thoughts on the subject?"

"I do not." Seven's face flushed as the images from her dream flooded her thoughts. Kathryn, naked and beautiful with pale smooth skin and bright blue eyes that held something Seven had never seen within them: murderous intent. Seven could still hear the screams Jaffen had emitted in her dream when he was being destroyed by black tendrils that sprung from Kathryn's body. Seven felt a prickling, nagging sensation in her mind. She felt urged to tell Captain Picard of her dream despite the irrationality of doing so. It was merely a fragment of her mind, not worth discussion, so she remained silent.

"Captain Picard to the Bridge."

Picard knew, even as he led the way from his Ready Room onto the Bridge, that he would need to have a discussion with Seven. She was under his purview and aside from that he felt for the woman, but right now he had more than two hundred Klingon colonists to attend to.

Commander Worf stood from the command chair without as much as a flicker of hesitation. Picard settled his lean form in the captain's chair, while his narrowed eyes were locked onto the readings from long range sensors that were being displayed on the viewscreen. The remnants of what had been a small M-class planet and also the home of two hundred and four Klingons.

"They didn't have a chance." B'Elanna watched the scattered remains of the world with fire in her heart that was fueled by grief and rage.

"Commander Torres. Seven." Picard's voice was low, reverent in the wake of such death and destruction though his tone brooked no argument. "Go to _Voyager_."

Distracted and distraught by the devastation the Borg had wrought, B'Elanna hardly realized her acquiescence or her own movements until she was being allowed admittance into the Bridge's turbolift with Seven right behind her. The doors closed seconds before B'Elanna's fist collided with the wall of the turbolift. "Damn it!"

"Transporter Room Two." Seven felt the humming of the floor panels that indicated their downward movement as she turned her attention to the fuming half-Klingon. "Commander?"

"What the hell are they doing, Seven?" B'Elanna's petite form was crouched in a fighting stance with her fists clenched at her sides. A growl emitted with each word she spoke. "The Talaxian asteroid is destroyed even though no one's manning it. The Borg take the Ventu and kill the Ledosians. The Einstein absorbs Ulaxi without even slowing down. Jaffen is missing, but Quarra is left intact. Now the Klingon colony is obliterated. How does this make any sense?"

"It does not." Seven stood as passively as she could with her hands clasped behind her back though anger at herself and her own confusion and uncertainty made her tone sharp. "The Borg onboard the _Einstein_ are not behaving like normal drones. They should have rejoined the Collective, the Hive Mind, immediately. To get instruction. Purpose."

"They've got a purpose, Seven." B'Elanna leaned her strong back against a wall of the turbolift as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her dark features were flushed with the heat caused by grief over the loss of lives, which only exasperated the burning fury that fired hotly in her chest. "We just can't figure out what the hell it is."

Seven's light blue eyes turned away from B'Elanna's contrite features to the gray carpeted floor of the turbolift. The pale skin between her blonde eyebrows scrunched in frustration. Despite her greatest efforts she had to agree with B'Elanna's critique despite the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that seemed to promise an answer although it remained forever elusive. Visions from her dream permeated her thoughts and Seven couldn't alleviate the sense that despite how illogical it seemed her nightmare was somehow important. Seven brushed away the strange feeling as she walked with an incensed B'Elanna Torres to the transporter room manned by a stocky, blue-skinned Bolian.

Ensign Chell would have made a sympathetic overture to both women, but he wasn't at all certain as to how to go about doing so and thus he remained silent in that regard. With a few commands keyed into the control panel he initiated transport with a smile of reassurance. Chell secured the transporter room for warp speed after he received a hail from the Ops station on the Bridge that they were moving on.

The rest of his shift was spent in Engineering. Chell commenced with his regular duties and then was given orders to assist in getting the _Enterprise-E_ battle ready. Aside from anxiety at the prospect of meeting the Borg, Chell felt hope fill the right side of his chest. The fact that Torres and Seven were now onboard _Voyager_ inspired such a glimmer of optimism within him. During his time in the Delta Quadrant he had been a part of _Voyager's_ crew so he had experienced firsthand how the crew had gotten out of many dire situations, had beaten the odds, and had done the seemingly impossible. He forcefully ignored the fact that one crucial element was missing this time. A single individual he had no doubt would have been able to turn the tide in their favor. Captain Janeway would have known what to do. That was the last thought Ensign Chell had before the world around him was lit with a glow ominously green.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 31

_U.S.S. Voyager_

"We found them." Chakotay's voice was as tired as his dark features, but a smile of success graced his lips as he looked at his crew. He stood with his back to the trio of windows of the Briefing room that showed, by the streaking of stars, the ship moving at warp. Chakotay nodded to Seven to elaborate on the report.

Chakotay wasn't especially happy to have Seven onboard, due in part to the residual regret he felt at the physical altercation he had initiated when he had been informed of the death of Kathryn Janeway. He was also suspicious that Kathryn had meant a great deal more to Seven than he had ever expected. It worried him to consider the possibility that Seven had held a special place within Kathryn's heart as well. A place he had always thought of as belonging to him.

"Kejal and Donik sent an encrypted response to our subspace message regarding Borg activity in the region." Seven stood stiffly with B'Elanna next to the wall monitor that displayed a star chart of the region of space they were approaching. "They reported the opening of a transwarp conduit two point four light years from a Y-class planet in Sector 83447."

Seven pressed a control to enlarge the sensor readings on the planet that had been dubbed "Ha'Dara" by a cadre of holograms. Holograms _Voyager's_ crew and its captain had had a hand in creating when Captain Janeway had given the Hirogen holographic technology as a peace offering nearly six years earlier.

"Kejal's ship, the _Olarra_, will reach Ha'Dara within the hour under stealth mode to determine if it's the _Einstein_." B'Elanna's tone was kept purposefully even, but she couldn't deny the anticipation that welled up within her and the fear of what awaited them. "But I'm betting it's them. The _Einstein_ is hiding on Ha'Dara."

"You're probably right." Chakotay moved to his chair at the head of the table, but opted not to take his seat as he addressed his Ops officer. "Lyssa, get Admiral Nechayev on the comm. Transmit _Voyager's_ records regarding Ha'Dara and Kejal and Donik and the report they sent us to the other ships."

"Y—yes, Sir." Lieutenant Campbell stood quickly from the Briefing room table with gracelessness caused by anxiety and dread. She knew their mission had always been to engage the Borg, but that knowledge didn't keep ice cold fear from skittering down her spine. As she left the Briefing room she hoped her panic wasn't too evident.

Subtly Chakotay's dark eyes followed Lyssa's jerky movements and he knew his Ops officer wasn't a coward, she was just smart. He had no doubt in his mind that many would lose their lives when the fight against the _Einstein_ eventually ensued, but they had a mission to complete, stop that ship by any means necessary. "Harry, I want the weapons and shields checked out before we get on the road."

"Aye, Captain." Lieutenant Kim nodded his head in acknowledgement, his lips curled up into only the smallest of smiles. He felt anxiety and fear, but he also felt righteous and honorable. They would make Admiral Janeway proud.

Admiral Janeway's former crew had not been with her, to defend her, to fight with her, to die with her. This would be their last testament to their beloved former captain. And if they were to die in this last stand against the Borg, then they would die fighting for something worthy of losing their lives. Harry also believed that what they were doing right now, against the Borg, would only be the beginning of the battle against the Collective. Others would follow them for the sake of their lives, their worlds and their freedom. The Borg hadn't even begun to see what true resistance meant.

Chakotay laid out the rest of his orders before he left to go to his Ready room in order to confer with the rest of the leaders within the Alliance. His movements, or anyone else's, weren't stalled for a second by Tom Paris' protestations.

"Am I the only one who thinks this is a trap? I mean, clearly it's a trap. No one else cares it's obviously a trap?" Tom received his response loud and clear when he was left standing, disgruntled, worried, and alone in the Briefing room. "Great, now I'm talking to myself for no reason."

"Of course it's a trap." B'Elanna regarded her husband with a grin that showed slightly pointed teeth as she brushed blonde strands of hair from his sweat drenched brow. She kissed his lips before she pressed her ear against his naked chest to hear the rhythmic thumping of his heart that was always helpful in calming her.

"Well good. I'm glad we're in agreement on that." Tom couldn't help but smile with adoration before he brought his lips to the top of B'Elanna's head and tightened his hold on her. As he hugged his wife to him he thought of their daughter. "If we do survive this remind me to never let Miral join Starfleet. She can have a nice planet side job. Florist, maybe."

B'Elanna snorted at the thought of her mighty warrior of a daughter selling flora. She placed her palms upon Tom's bare chest before she rested her chin on top of her hands to preface her next words with a seriousness that showed in her dark gaze.

"I'm worried about Seven." B'Elanna was comforted by Tom's hand stroking her lean back and felt encouraged to continue by the understanding nod he gave her. "She's having really horrible nightmares when she regenerates. She's gone to the Doctor, but he couldn't really do anything about it. I've never seen her like this, Tom. She doesn't say anything, but I—I think she's afraid to regenerate."

"I guess I don't blame her." Tom hugged his wife closer to him and his heart filled with even more love at the compassion B'Elanna exuded despite her sometimes gruff and impatient exterior.

He had been surprised when B'Elanna had become somewhat of a counselor for Seven, but he quickly understood and appreciated what both women were offering each other. B'Elanna had so recently lost her mother, a wound that was healing slowly, so she could sympathize with Seven perhaps better than anyone else could.

"What the Borg did…" Tom's voice caught in his throat and his arm around his wife tightened. "God, B'Elanna, I can't imagine what seeing—having to see what the Borg made her into…"

"In her nightmare Seven sees the Borg Queen killing hundreds, personally, but the worst thing about it is that she doesn't look like a machine. She looks like Janeway." B'Elanna slowly pulled herself up into a seated position.

She smiled when Tom wrapped her in a blanket to protect her from the chill of their bedroom before he hugged her close. Her words seemed stuck in her throat from her uncertainty about how much to divulge, how much of Seven's confidence she should forfeit. Even with the man she trusted above all others.

"Hey, what is it?" Tom made soothing circles upon B'Elanna's back. He kept the motions light and slow to extend comfort and infinite patience.

B'Elanna took a deep breath before she peered over her shoulder at the concerned look her husband was paying her. "She loved her."

Tom nodded. His voice was quiet, reverent and sure. "We all did."

"No, Tom." B'Elanna turned her body towards Tom and let her hand fall atop of his bare chest. "I mean she was in love, with Janeway."

Tom allowed the hand on his chest to encourage him to lie back down on the warmed sheets of their bed as he smiled knowingly, yet sadly. "Well, yeah."

B'Elanna's descent paused. Her dark brown eyes were wide due to the revelation, but somehow she wasn't surprised by Tom's perceptiveness. "You knew?"

Tom shrugged without actually moving a muscle though he did smile kindly. "It was pretty obvious."

"Yeah." B'Elanna lips pulled into a bittersweet grin as she settled against the warmth her husband provided freely with both his body heat and affection. "I guess it probably was."

B'Elanna pushed back thoughts of how the anger and annoyance she had felt towards Seven when they had been in the Delta Quadrant had perhaps been caused partially by jealousy. Instead she recalled the day she had been at Admiral Janeway's memorial. When Seven had attempted to give her an isolinear chip that had the potential to alleviate all of B'Elanna's concerns and reinforce her confidence that she had in fact earned Janeway's respect, garnered her trust, and had been loved just as equally, just as completely.

"I think she feels responsible. Actually I know she does." B'Elanna ignored the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach and the unwanted voice that whispered words which elicited her own sense of guilt.

"She's not the only one."

B'Elanna nodded absently. Her tangled thoughts had already moved on. "This is it, Tom."

"Yeah, I know. I never thought we'd ever go out looking for a fight with the Borg." Tom adjusted his position so that he could look B'Elanna in the eye. "But it seems right somehow, doesn't it? If we don't stop the Borg now—"

"We will."

Tom didn't want to go against the earnestness in B'Elanna's voice, but he couldn't deny he was less confident than she. He suspected she wasn't even as sure as she sounded. "We're going to try. These aren't the usual, predictable Borg we're dealing with here—"

"Come on. We need to get to the Bridge." B'Elanna's movements were stalled by Tom's hands on her biceps. Her brow creased in bemusement. "What?"

"It's just—I—I wish she was here."

"She's gone, Tom." B'Elanna pulled herself out of Tom's grasp. Her tone wasn't harsh, but sharp with the knowledge that Tom was right. Janeway would have known what to do. But she was gone and they had to deal with that. "For once we're going to have to actually do something without her."

Seven's back was ramrod straight as she stood behind the secondary tactical station with B'Elanna to her left. A swirl of anxiety mixed with pent up anger unsettled her stomach, but one would not know it by her impassive features. B'Elanna knew or at least sensed Seven's apprehension and if they had been two different people she would have placed a comforting hand upon the uneasy woman's shoulder. Instead she did what she figured Seven would want most; B'Elanna ignored Seven's emotional upheaval completely. That also allowed her to concentrate on controlling her own.

Seven was unsettled being led into battle against the Borg without Kathryn Janeway in the captain's seat. Without her husky, commanding voice leading the charge with confidence that was perhaps unfounded but always reassuring. Seven wanted to hear that voice so intensely it caused pain to radiate from her chest to the rest of her body. Instead she listened as Chakotay commanded the vessel that had been so loved by Janeway. So much a part of the woman that it seemed wrong for another to captain it. A part of Seven hated Chakotay for taking what she believed was rightfully Janeway's despite how illogical that assertion was. Admiral Janeway had given Chakotay _Voyager _a long time ago, seemingly without a moment's hesitation. Then why did Seven feel as if it had been stolen? Perhaps it was because it hurt her to think that Janeway could cast away something without pause that she had loved so much. Chakotay's voice shook Seven out of her reverie.

"Take us out of warp." Chakotay's features and voice were steady, but B'Elanna knew by the way his large hands gripped the armrests of his chair that he was worried. Chakotay stood from the captain's chair as he took in the brown Y-class planet displayed on the viewscreen. "Lyssa, contact the _Olarra_."

As Seven watched the gray swirling electromagnetic storms that covered the planet she felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck standup. She wondered if intuition was ever helpful. _Voyager's_ scanning equipment did nothing to help alleviate her apprehension as it could not break through those clouds to what, if anything, lay beneath them.

"Captain?" Lyssa's voice shook as she looked up from the Ops station. "Subspace communications are down."

"What?" Chakotay bolted back to his chair to make a ship wide announcement. "Red Alert. All hands to battle stations!"

Seven dismissed rank and decorum and allowed B'Elanna to take over her station as she moved to take Lyssa's. Uncaring of Lieutenant Campbell's angry response to Seven's occupation of her Ops station Seven proceeded to input commands to try to discern why communications were not operational. What she saw caused a wave of ice cold fear wash over her.

"It's a Borg dampening field." Seven's grave light blue gaze met Chakotay's.

"I said it was a trap." Tom's voice was soft as he tapped on the control display that had risen between his chair and the captain's. "But no, no one ever listens to me."

"Incoming weapons fire!" Harry's voice was a scream to overcome the alarm klaxons.

"Full power to the shields. Evasive maneuvers!" Chakotay watched as the torpedoes skimmed across their forward shields before it exploded, which shook the ship around him. "Damage?"

"Shields are down to seventy-eight percent."

"The _Enterprise-E_, the _Gorkon_ and the Resistance Cube have arrived." Seven was ashamed of the relief she felt when she saw their sister ships dropping out of warp alongside them.

"Can you get a weapons lock, Harry?" Chakotay knew the ship out there firing at them was cloaked. Those torpedoes had a Hirogen energy signature and the hunters were known for their stealth capabilities.

"Not yet, sir."

Chakotay sat straighter in his chair when he saw a green-lit tractor beam reveal a small Hirogen vessel. Of course Korok's sensors would be superior to their own. The captain smiled a little, thankful that the General was on their side.

"Captain, I'm reading an energy surge from the Hirogen ship." Lyssa, who had decided she would not allow Seven to take over her station without a fight, tried to make sense of her readings through the haze of the electromagnetic interference from the Y-class planet and the enemy ship itself. Her confused expression garnered a look of irritation across Seven's features before Lyssa was once again pushed to the side.

Seven and Chakotay shared in the moment their eyes met an understanding of what was happening, but that knowledge came much too late. Chakotay's desperate command was utterly futile. "Target the tractor beam emitter—"

The explosion wrenched the occupants of _Voyager's_ Bridge to the ground or harshly against their respective consoles as the viewscreen filled with the image of the Hirogen ship self-destructing taking most of General Korok's Resistance Cube along with it.

"Get a lock on Korok's people. I want them on _Voyager_ now!" Fury filled Chakotay. How could he have been so naïve? "Akola, back us off. We need to—"

"Sir, I can't. I don't have transporter control." Lyssa willed the readings to be wrong, but she knew it was hopeless so she reported her findings. "I can't raise Engineering. Systems are shutting down all over the ship."

Akola had a haunted expression as she turned to address Chakotay. "We're dead in the water."

"We don't have weapons or shields." Harry's voice was surer than Akola's and Lyssa's but he too felt fear gripping his heart. "Captain?"

Chakotay didn't acknowledge what he had just been told as he stared at the viewscreen. Thirteen ships, some were Ledosian, most were Overlookers, and one had been a Federation starship, were covered in the black hardware and green lights denoting them as belonging to the Borg, began to emerge like locusts from beneath the electromagnetic cloud that had concealed them from _Voyager's_ sensors.

The image on the viewscreen of the _Einstein_ led armada quickly shifted to that of a stout man riddled with cybernetic implants. Not so long ago he had been Captain Howard Rappaport, but was now known to the One who mattered as Two.

"Prepare for transport." Two's singular voice was augmented by that of the thousands of other voices in the relatively small Borg fleet. "Do not resist. Or you will be destroyed."

Two's visage disappeared as quickly as it had come and now the viewscreen and the Bridge were lit green by the tractor beam holding _Voyager_ in place like a fly on a web.

"Weapons." Chakotay easily caught the two rifles Harry threw him even as he felt his body being transported off his Bridge.

Seven managed to retrieve her two weapons as well before she felt the familiar feel of a Borg transport.

Lieutenants Akola Tare and Devi Patel looked at one another with expressions that bore momentary relief that they hadn't been transported. As they looked around the empty Bridge their relief was quickly replaced by confusion and worry. Why weren't they taken? What was happening to their shipmates? And what were they to do now?

"Sickbay to Bridge." Jarem Kaz's worried voice sounded over the comm. which startled Akola into moving from the helm to Ops as quickly as her legs could carry her. She put the doctor on the viewscreen.

"What the hell is going on up there?" Jarem's handsome features were marred by blood from a head wound he had sustained, but now had long forgotten about. "I was treating Lieutenant Vorik when he was transported right off the biobed."

"The Borg took everyone from the Bridge except me and Lieutenant Patel." Akola's attention was diverted from the doctor as Patel's panicked voice sounded loudly in the vast Bridge.

"A star's going supernova!"

"That's not possible." Jarem's assertion of what was and wasn't possible was challenged when he observed on his monitor the impossible. His assumptions were made even less true when the exploding star did them no damage and was instantaneously replaced by an identical one. "My gods!"

Jarem Kaz didn't know how close he was to the truth.

Seven used her cybernetic hand to smash in the face of the nearest drone who had once been a young Ledosian woman. She finished her task by firing her TR-116 rifle at the drone's chest. The chemically propelled tritanium bullet efficiently deactivated the drone by tearing through its biological systems. It now lay bloody and unmoving upon the gray deck plating of the _Einstein's_ cargo bay.

A drone nearly knocked Seven over as it whizzed past her. She looked to where it had been thrown from and felt relief when she saw B'Elanna. The half-Klingon was baring her teeth and her fists were clenched in front of her.

"Get down!" B'Elanna swung the rifle that was slung over her shoulder into her hands and didn't hesitate to fire it at the drone rapidly approaching Seven from behind. She snarled with approval when the brownish blob covered with implants fell in a heap upon the deck.

"Don't let them touch you!" Chakotay's command wasn't needed, but he bellowed it anyway as he fired the two rifles he held in his hands at any drone within distance of his targeting array imbedded in his yellow eyepiece. "Keep firing!"

Tom did as he was told, but as he took out two more drones he knew more would be coming. That was how the Borg won. Not with strategy or brute strength, but with sheer overwhelming numbers. There were only twelve of them and hundreds if not thousands of drones. Eventually he knew they would lose. He kept firing as he thought of Miral. He screamed in rage as he thought of Janeway. Three more drones fell and he continued fighting for what he thought would probably be his final stand against the Borg. If he was going to die he was going to take as many of them with him as he could.

Not so long ago Harry would have hesitated in killing Borg drones, but today he fired fast and with pinpoint accuracy taking out a dozen cybernetically enhanced beings with a spread of tritanium bullets. He ignored the splattering of blood that fell on his uniform and the left side of his neck as he continued firing his rifle even if resistance to the seemingly inevitable was futile. He'd die standing and fighting until he drew his last breath. That's how he had been trained. That's what Kathryn Janeway had taught him.

"Seven!" B'Elanna hated how her voice sounded panicked, but truth was she was panicked.

Seven sprinted to where B'Elanna was being held by a drone, his hand near the half-Klingon's throat, and without hesitation she grabbed the drones head and rotated it until a snap preceded his deactivation.

"God, Seven, remind me never to start a fight with you." B'Elanna grinned toothily as she allowed Seven to help her quickly to her feet.

"We are vastly outnumbered. We must get off this ship." Seven removed the Infinite Modulator that had been strapped to her back and pointed a finger to the upper deck to indicate where she planned to go.

"Seven?" B'Elanna looked skeptically at the untested weapon, but knew it was perhaps their only chance. "Make it count, okay?"

"Of course." Seven smiled a small, but reassuring smile before she ran as fast as she could to the nearest ladder. She had to take out two drones before she made it to the first rung. Within seconds she was on the scaffolding high above the fray. She closed her right eye and allowed her Borg enhanced eye to do the targeting. She aimed the I-MOD and fired. The weapon's energy signature rotated before she fired again. Bodies of deactivated drones began to pile up as she continued firing.

Seven's right eye opened as hot tears poured down her cheek as she thought of what she had been. A mindless automaton seeking a perfection it could never hope to reach. Seven had seen perfection. For three point four seconds she had experienced perfection. She had been connected in a way humans could never imagine with Kathryn Janeway. She had touched what could only be described as Kathryn's soul and what she had found there was love. A deep and abiding love. For those three point four seconds she had been free to love Kathryn in return. To bare her own soul to the woman who had saved it.

"Seven?" B'Elanna was careful not to touch the sobbing woman because she still had the I-MOD firing off phaser shots at any drone in sight. So instead she knelt down next to her and waited for the last two seconds to expire that would end the forty-two second massacre Seven had just perpetrated.

Once the power cell had been depleted, Seven let the I-MOD fall from her hands as she slowly turned her tear-streaked face to B'Elanna.

"You've avenged her, Seven. You did it." B'Elanna helped Seven to her feet as she smiled softly. "Come on, we need to go. We're not that far away from the shuttlebay. We just need to—"

The blood in B'Elanna's veins turned ice-cold as more than a hundred tactical drones entered the Cargo bay. It wasn't just that their infrastructure was tritanium and thus impervious to the TR-116, but it was who they had been that made B'Elanna's heart thump painfully in her chest.

"The colonists." Seven's voice was soft, reverent, for she knew B'Elanna had felt a kinship with the Klingons they had helped find a home for in the Delta Quadrant.

"Come on." B'Elanna and Seven descended the ladder quickly to join the line their shipmates and friends had formed to stand against this new threat.

Seven regretted that only Jurot, Chang, Munro, and Murphy had brought I-MODs with them. Seven knew where the flaw was in their plan to come to Ha'Dara, they had been small in their thinking. They had assumed they would merely face the assimilated _Einstein_ with a small group of drones with erratic, illogical behavior. What they had found was beyond what even Seven had imagined. The barrage of Overlookers and Ledosian drones had been some sort of test to ascertain what weapons the Federation had at its disposal. Now the Borg knew of the I-MOD and with time they would adapt to even that. Her forty-two second demonstration would have been all the time they would have needed to begin developing a counterattack.

Austin Chang was the first to fire his I-MOD, and soon Jurot fired hers. Alex Munro and Telsia Murphy reserved their power until the swarm of tactical drones began to thin. An imposing drone that had been Ch'Rega stepped forward and lifted her arm, which had an array of cybernetic components attached to it. A green flare fired from her hand a second after she was killed by Ensign Murphy. What that flare had done wasn't readily apparent until Jurot and then the others tried to fire their I-MODs again and their weapons failed to produce anything other than impotent beeping sounds. The drone's final act had been to create a localized and effective dampening field.

Drones circled the dozen Starfleet officers with their augmented arms raised as a deterrent for resistance. The doors to the Cargo bay opened once again and emitted Two.

"Drop your weapons." It was the first time any of the Borg drones had spoken. His voice sounded as it had when he had been Howard Rappaport except for the echo of a thousand voices that sounded with it. "Kneel and bow your heads."

"You've got to be kidding." B'Elanna wanted to lunge for Two's throat, but was stopped by her husband's hand on her shoulder. She knew he was right, but she still snarled her frustration.

"Bow down."

"Yeah, yeah, we're doing it, all right." Tom tried to keep his voice light even though he was more terrified than he had ever remembered being in his entire life. Probably because most of his fear was regarding his wife and the daughter they had just made an orphan. "Who the hell do you think you are anyway? Arrogant bastard."

"You do not bow for me." Two's face transformed into an expression of complete and utter reverence and supplication. "You bow for Her."

All eyes went to the Cargo bay door as it emitted a lone being. A being whose appearance resulted in twelve people's realities being shattered completely. Loud utterances of disbelief, denial, anger, and horror filled the Cargo bay as she continued towards the collection of officers through an opening the tactical drones had made for her so she could enter the circle.

Dark blue eyes sparkled and moist pink lips turned up into a lopsided grin before she spoke. Her voice was not augmented by that of her Collective. It was as husky and rich as it had been when she had been a human, a woman, their captain. And for that it was all the more grotesque. She titled her head slightly as she took in the horrified group of individuals. For the first time since her resurrection the Borg Queen felt love in her heart as she addressed the people that had been part of her family. This sentiment was intoned with two simple words: "Welcome home."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 32

_The Einstein_

"You do not bow for me. You bow for Her."

Seven turned her icy glare from Two to the large Cargo bay door that opened with an audible compression of air. The rapid thumping of her heart threatened to burst forth from her chest and it was difficult for her to intake air. Her blood ran cold even as it heated her cheeks and throbbed loudly in her ears. Seven's legs felt unstable and the hands still clutching her rifle were shaking. Her breathing became erratic as her chest rose and fell in quick succession. Her head went fuzzy as her mind tried to come to terms with what her eyes were telling her, which was that Kathryn Janeway was walking towards her.

A number of tactical drones that had once been members of a Klingon colony in the heart of the Delta Quadrant moved their lumbering, metal-endowed forms in order to accommodate the petite woman's entry into the circle that held the Starfleet officers captive. As she drew closer Seven knew whoever this… thing was, it was not Kathryn Janeway. There was a cruelness to the way this being looked upon them, how it smiled with one corner of its lips turned up in a grotesque mimic of how Kathryn had smiled when amused or smugly victorious. The warm, sultry voice Seven so longed to hear was obscene sounding coming from such a distorted image of her beloved former captain and the woman she had been in love with.

"Welcome home." The Borg Queen's smile grew wider, toothier, as she took in the awful collection of horrified faces one by one.

She began with Chakotay, whose dark skin had grown pale and he looked as if he might become sick at any moment. Next to him stood members of the Hazard Team she had brought over to discern whether any of the Federation's weapons could prove troublesome. She was pleased that none did. Even Seven's ingenious weapon had its weakness and she had found it quickly, efficiently. B'Elanna Torres and her husband, Tom Paris, had similar expressions of disbelief, as if they couldn't quite trust what their eyes were relaying to their brains. The Queen couldn't fault them for that. She supposed they had thought her dead. Destroyed by that irrelevant being who she so resembled. She passed over the rest quickly, deeming them unimportant.

Finally her dark blue eyes reached the individual she wanted most. Her gaze drifted across Seven's features focusing particularly on her lush, full lips, which caused her fingertips to tingle. The Queen tingled in other places as she thought about Seven's mouth and the wonderful possibilities for how it could pleasure her for hours. Her observation took in Seven's lithe, but voluptuous body and imagined it naked and writhing beneath her hands as she allowed Seven to receive pleasure by her generous touch. The Queen nearly laughed at the disturbed look Seven had on her features when her eyes made the long journey back up the lean, curvy body to her face.

"What the hell are you?" Chakotay finally found his voice, though it was rough and pained.

"Isn't it obvious?" The Borg Queen spread her arms as she presented her form to them. "I'm your queen."

On the surface she appeared very much as Kathryn Janeway had looked when she had been alive, though there were some visible dissimilarities. The Borg Queen was leaner, her hair was longer and a darker red, but the most noticeable difference was her skin. She had never been exposed to the rays from various suns, or the cruelty of war and battle, which left her pale and unblemished. Her milky white skin was almost unnaturally pale and gave her an otherworldly appearance, almost as if she was a vampire. Her deceptively diminutive form was covered in a facsimile of the prior Borg Queen's mechanical body. Instead of metal she was encased by a solidification of her nanoprobes that created the appearance of a shiny, black skin-tight bodysuit.

Seven heard the click of a tritanium bullet sliding into the chamber of Chakotay's gun even as she maintained her unrelenting watch of the insidious being. Her skin felt hot and her body began to quake ever so slightly from a fury that raged like an inferno within her. How dare they? Seven knew she would make the Borg pay for this perversion, for the being before her was so painfully beautiful.

"Release us or you die." Chakotay pointed the muzzle of his rifle at the person—no, thing that so resembled Kathryn that it caused a sharp pain to enter his chest and hot tears to spring to his eyes. He angrily spat out his order. "You've got ten seconds to call off your drones!"

"Oh, Chakotay, always so quick to put your finger to the trigger for a man of peace." The Borg Queen's look of derisiveness cut Chakotay to the quick, but he maintained his determined pose. Her expression quickly shifted into that of an entreating smile as she moved, sauntered really, towards him and his shiny gun. "Go ahead. Shoot me."

The end of the rifle was almost touching the pale sternum of the Borg Queen's chest. She could feel the air current swirl around the trembling gun and her smile grew. "Come on, Chakotay. Do it."

What happened next occurred so quickly Seven wasn't sure anyone else aside from her and the rest of the cybernetically augmented drones had even detected it. Not even a second after Chakotay's finger pulled the trigger the bullet was absorbed by a black tendril that erupted from the Borg Queen's chest while she back handed him. He flew a good distance before a large cargo container broke his momentum with a sickening crunch.

"Chakotay!" B'Elanna's attempt to go to her friend's aid was effectively stopped by a strong hand around her throat. She struggled fiercely to break the Borg Queen's hold as she swore loudly.

"Shh shh." The Queen's lips were turned up into a smirk as she lifted B'Elanna into the air and pulled her close to her. Her hunger was beginning to emerge, but it was stifled when she heard Seven's protests.

"Release her." Seven aimed her TR-116 rifle at the Borg Queen's head despite how it pained her to see Kathryn's visage looking back at her. The Queen smiled and possessed a hungry look in her blue eyes and upon the elegant features Seven had once thought so beautiful. Those features now seemed terrible to her, wrong somehow. Deep down she knew she preferred the mechanical being that had possessed Kathryn's features and little else. This near perfect façade was too much for Seven. For she found herself both drawn to and repulsed by this being.

"No." The Queen's voice was low, gravelly and teasing as she looked at Seven with a taunting grin. "I don't think I will."

B'Elanna's protestations were silenced as the hand around her throat tightened, but were perhaps made up by the loud, desperate ones her husband was making.

Tom felt numb as he joined Seven in aiming his rifle at the disturbing being whose mere presence along with what it was doing to his wife, caused his breathing to become labored and sweat to breakout across his brow.

He barely caught B'Elanna when she was haphazardly tossed his way. He groaned as he fell onto his back, his weapon clattering to the floor, but his arms held what was most precious to him and that was what was important.

Multiple rifles fired at the Borg Queen, but not a single tritanium bullet could penetrate the green tingled force field she had erected around herself. If they had been thinking logically they would have wondered why the tactical drones had allowed them to keep their weapons at all. This unformed question was quickly answered.

Black tendrils shot out in multiple directions from the Borg Queen's midsection. Each tendril moved swiftly through the air undeterred and unstoppable in their mission. Rifles were ripped from hands as Starfleet officers were hoisted into the air by obsidian colored tentacles. The Queen's smile grew as she relished in the sounds of their horrified screams.

Seven's jaw clenched tightly as she tried valiantly to remove herself from the Queen's hold even as she was being reeled in so to speak, moving closer and closer to the source of the tendrils that moved as if they themselves were alive. In mid-air Seven had no traction to cling to in order to pull herself away from the Queen. Her struggles were doing nothing but draining her of her strength.

Seven had been a member of the Collective for eighteen years. She thought she knew the Borg. She realized how very wrong she was. She had never seen anything like this before and it caused fear to grow like an infection throughout her body. It caused an icy feeling to settle in the pit of her stomach and her breathing to make the rise and fall of her ample chest more prominent.

"What are you?" Seven was surprised by how steady her voice was. She was a mere two inches away from the Queen's smirking countenance and murky abyss that was her black moving torso where the tentacles sprouted from.

"You know who I am." The Queen had brought Seven close enough that she could smell her scent, feel her warm breath, and hear the blood moving in her veins. She brought a hand up that was divested of its black covering before it touched Seven's face. The warm flesh of the Borg Queen's palm touched Seven's cheek in what appeared to be a soothing gesture. It had the opposite effect on Seven.

Seven turned her head to try to escape from the agony the Borg Queen's touch caused within her. The feel of that hand, of Kathryn's hand, upon her in such a way was creating a pain in her chest that was quickly overwhelming her.

"Do not touch me." Seven's voice held that pain and it was said with malice, a threat plainly instilled in her low tones.

"I thought you wanted me to touch you, Seven." The Queen's hand became firmer in its touch as she moved her lips closer to Seven's ear. "I've seen your dreams. I know what you desire most."

"You know nothing." Seven's dismissal was said between clenched teeth as she willed her body to deny that it craved Kathryn's touch even if it was from a false facsimile.

"I know what sounds you have me making in your dreams, Seven." The Borg Queen's hand moved so that the pads of her fingers brushed over Seven's lips and dipped into the hot, moist depths of her mouth. "Give yourself to me and you'll hear them in reality."

The Queen's fingers were quickly replaced by her tongue as she plundered Seven's mouth and pressed their bodies tighter together. When Seven bit her, hard, to remove her from her mouth the Borg Queen moaned with pleasure deep in her throat and increased the pressure of her lips upon Seven's mouth.

"Stop it!" B'Elanna screamed with fury as she tried to rip the burning black material from her body. Like her shipmates, she was still being suspended in the air by the tentacles that projected from the Borg Queen's torso. "Leave her alone!"

The Borg Queen pulled her lips reluctantly from Seven's mouth to smile smugly. She could practically feel the rage within B'Elanna through the dark tendrils that were as much of a part as her as an arm or leg.

"B'Elanna Torres, what you fail to understand is that I am now your queen." The Borg Queen extended her control over her vessel and caused one wall of the Cargo bay to become like liquid tar. Her tentacles pushed Seven along with the Starfleet officers to the wall and bonded them to the black substance securely before she retracted her tendrils back into herself. It was a disquieting image.

"As amusing as your anger is," The Queen placed her hands upon her hips in a grotesque mimic of their beloved former captain, "It is irrelevant. You are mine now. To do with what I will. In time you will cherish me as you would a god. For that is what I will be to you."

The Borg Queen maintained her genial air as she moved closer to the still struggling and argumentative woman. The bonds around her grew tighter, which along with the Queen's firm hand on B'Elanna's chin helped to still the half-Klingon's struggles. The Borg Queen licked her lips before she pressed them to B'Elanna's, whose resistance crumbled for just a moment before it was renewed with a rage that seemed boundless.

"You will love me. Desire me." The Borg Queen quieted B'Elanna's curses with a black band that sprouted from the wall and wrapped around the other woman's mouth. "As you desired Janeway."

The Borg Queen brushed her hand across B'Elanna's tear-streaked face before she moved to the riotous man trapped next to his wife.

"Oh, Tom, do you still dream of being inside Janeway?" The Borg Queen's hand pushed sweat-drenched strands of blonde hair from Tom's forehead as if he was a sick child and she his caring mother. "Do you thrust into your wife and pretend it's your captain finally succumbing to you? Did you not think Janeway was aware of the hologram? Oh, the things you had your hologram say and do. It disgusted her to see an image of herself so denigrated, so… needy. But late at night she would touch herself thinking of what you wanted to do to her."

Tom's eyes filled with rage and disgust from what the Borg Queen's words had just revealed about himself and about Kathryn Janeway. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want the others to believe it either. He couldn't bear to look at anyone. It was true that he had crafted a hologram of Janeway, one late night, when he had been drunk, lonely, and feeling incredibly deprived. After the first time he had sworn to himself that he would never open the file again. But night after night for a year he had succumbed to the siren call of that hologram. She had whispered things to him during those nights. She had told him how much she needed him, wanted him, was proud of him. Tom felt himself getting sick with what the others must think of him. What he thought of himself. And far worse, what Janeway had thought of him when she had apparently found his program.

"She lies!" Seven's voice rose to a volume no one had ever heard before as she raged against the filth the Borg Queen was speaking and the physical bonds that held her. "She tricks you. Do not believe her."

"I've never lied to you, Seven. And I'm not lying to you now." The Borg Queen ignored the others as her dark blue gaze locked onto Seven's incensed features. "Don't you see how corrupt these beings are? How they covet and desire things so selfishly? If you only knew the darkness they hold in their hearts you would not resist the inevitable. You will join me freely. For I can give you what you desire most."

"You know nothing of what I desire." Seven's voice was vehement as she fought against her bonds in an attempt to get at the Borg Queen who stood so close, too close. "I will defeat you."

"Do not deny the truth of the situation, Seven." The Queen's gaze on Seven's was unrelenting. Her voice remained even, but determined. "You have lost already. Your failure to destroy the Borg on this vessel gave rise to a new Collective, a new queen cloned from that wretched human. We will not be stopped."

"You're small, weak!"

"Austin!" Jurot looked at her lover with fear in her dark brown eyes. "Don't."

"Do you know what I did to Kohlar, to Jaffen, to that pathetic little Ventu girl?" The Borg Queen pressed herself against Austin Chang as she began to burn his skin with the black liquid emerging from her torso. "I ate them. Devoured them whole while they kicked and screamed and begged for death. I slowed my feasting when they did. I wanted them to feel me digesting them."

"Juliet." Chang gritted his teeth against the pain of having his flesh torn away by the black liquid moving across his body. "I love you."

The explosion was deafening and shook the ship around them when Chang detonated a plasma charge attached to his belt. It killed him instantly. There was nothing left except a fiery fissure in the black moving wall to which he had been attached.

The Borg Queen had screamed in agony as the explosion ripped her apart. The floor of the ship shifted and turned into a thick black pool, which she fell into in two separate parts. The wall that held them captive shimmered away and merged with the black liquid and covered the disassembled Borg Queen completely. Her drones fell to the floor unmoving in their deactivation.

"Come on, Juliet, we have to go!"

"AUSTIN!" Juliet Jurot struggled to break Telsia Murphy and Alex Munro's hold on her as she was being hoisted bodily up the rungs of a Cargo bay ladder to escape the black pool. "Let me go!"

"He's gone, I'm sorry, Juliet." Telsia's arms around Juliet were unrelenting as she finally got her up to the scaffolding. "God I'm sorry."

"_Enterprise_ to Captain Chakotay."

Tom hit the combadge on Chakotay's chest since the captain was still unconscious from the blow the Borg Queen had delivered him. "Twelve—eleven to transport and then get us the hell out of here, Captain."

The transportation from the _Einstein_ to the _Enterprise_ seemed impossibly slow to Tom who just wanted to escape the black abyss and the looks B'Elanna was giving him.

"He's hurt. Transport him to Sickbay." Tom's sense of responsibility kicked in and his voice was steady and authoritative. "Juliet, I'm going to have Astall trans—"

"Get your hands off me!" Juliet jerked away from Tom's touch as her tears washed over her face and her grief colored her tone. "You're a sick bastard. You know that!"

"Come on, Juliet." Alex held Juliet close despite her tense form as she and Telsia left the transporter room without so much as look in Tom's direction.

A cold feeling settled in the pit of Tom's stomach from their averted gaze. He ignored his discomfort as he turned to Harry, Lyssa, and Vorik. "We need to get back to _Voyager_."

Tom was the last to step on to the dais. He wanted to reach out to his wife, but she was too busy trying to console Seven as they exited the transporter room and he really needed to get back to _Voyager_. "Four to transport."

"Tom—"

"Get the ship secured, Lieutenant. Vorik, I want the warp core back up and running." Tom ignored Harry's worried features as he led the way out of the transporter room. His eyes didn't make eye contact with anyone as he stalked to the turbolift.

Enclosed in the lift with Harry and Lyssa next to him he tapped his combadge. He wanted so much to contact B'Elanna but instead he hailed Captain Picard. "How soon will your warp functions be restored, Captain?"

"Within thirty minutes. _Voyager_?"

"We'll make it in that time." Tom wiped his sweaty palms on his pants legs as he said the next part. "Captain, do you have weapons?"

"Yes."

"Good. Blow them out of the water. Paris out." Tom clenched his hands into tight fists and took a deep breath before the turbolift doors opened to the Bridge. "I want that viewscreen operational, Lyssa, and I mean now. Harry, get our weapons online. Full power to the shields."

"Shields are at seventy-two percent." Harry's voice betrayed nothing of the inner turmoil he was feeling. He needed to talk to Tom, but he knew now wasn't the time.

Tom fell heavily into the captain's chair as he watched the viewscreen come to life. Though he didn't have the authority to tell Captain Picard to do anything the man had obviously agreed with his command. Tom watched with fire in his chest as the _Enterprise_ and the _Gorkon_ descended upon the Borg fleet and opened fire. The Ledosian and Overlooker vessels were dead in the water in much the same fashion and reason the drones had fallen. Without a queen to guide them they were nonfunctional. Tom's features were lit orange and yellow as the dozen of explosions filled the region of space above Ha'Dara.

"We have weapons."

Tom smiled cruelly before he hunched forward in his chair. "Target the _Einstein_ and fire."

"Torpedoes away." Harry watched the small ship, which had been the catalyst to this whole mission, explode in a brilliance of yellow and blue light and energy. _Voyager_ shook around them, but maintained its ground. Harry didn't feel satisfaction or vindicated. He felt exhausted. "It's over."

Tom sat back in his chair and tried to relax his muscles, but he knew Harry was wrong. It was far from over. They still needed to contact another Resistance cube to get them home. And he needed to talk to B'Elanna.

CHAPTER 33

_The Enterprise-E_

"Come on, Seven, we need to get to the Bridge." B'Elanna could feel Tom's eyes on her, but she had other things to attend to than her husband's guilt and shame at the moment. Seven was shaking in her arms. She breathed easier when they were alone in the turbolift and so she released her hold on Seven.

"It wasn't her, Seven, it wasn't Janeway." B'Elanna knew her words were as much for her benefit as they were for Seven's. The Borg Queen sure as hell looked like Janeway, sounded like her too. Hell she even smelled like her. Felt like her. B'Elanna felt sick that she had fallen into that kiss for even a second. That her blood had pumped hotly in her veins from the firm touch the Borg Queen had maintained on her chin to keep her in place. "It was a trick. A sick Borg trick."

"No, B'Elanna Torres, it was not." Seven left B'Elanna in the turbolift when the doors opened to the Bridge.

B'Elanna stood very still, dazed, but she shook it off hastily before she followed Seven out of the lift.

"Blow them out of the water. Paris out."

B'Elanna pushed away the feelings threatening to surface from hearing her husband's incensed voice. Instead she stood with Seven slightly behind where Captain Picard was seated.

"I suggest you do what he said, Captain." Seven's features betrayed nothing as did her voice. Her tone was even, cold, unfeeling. The truth was she wanted to see those vessels destroyed more than anyone else. She wanted her vengeance at last. "The Borg are resilient. Even without their queen they pose an imminent threat. They will adapt without her."

"Queen?" Picard's confusion didn't last long as he made his orders in a full-bodied tone. "Lieutenant Choudhury, full power to the shields. Destroy the Borg convoy. Fire when ready."

"Aye, Sir. Shields are up. Torpedoes are away."

Picard's attention was diverted from the destruction displayed on the viewscreen by Seven's voice. "Captain Picard, we must speak with you."

"Of course. My Ready Room." Picard nodded his head to Worf to take his seat and the Bridge before he led the way to his office. "Shouldn't you two be in Sickbay?"

"I am uninjured." Seven's stance was ramrod straight as she held her hands behind her back. A small muscle beneath the starburst implant on her cheek moved before she spoke as impassively as she could. "The Borg Queen has evolved since our last encounter. She appears fully human, but apparently has the absorption capabilities the Borg Cube in the Alpha Quadrant had possessed. She is also a genetically modified clone of Kathryn Janeway."

"My God, Seven, I—why would they do such a thing?"

"Because the Borg hate Kathryn Janeway and because of me." Seven's voice was held perfectly even by sheer will power alone. "You and I, Locutus, have become an obsession for the Borg Queen. I have become an even greater one to this incarnation."

"She was luring us here. She wanted us to find her so that she could capture you." Picard thought it was all very simple now that the Borg Queen was a factor. "But you destroyed her. Again. How?"

"Ensign Chang detonated a charge attached to his belt." B'Elanna's voice contained the reverence deserving of such a brave and selfless act. "He took the Borg Queen with him."

"His commendable service will not be forgotten." Picard placed a warm hand on B'Elanna's shoulder and purposefully ignored the tears that filled her eyes as he addressed Seven. "With General Korok's ship destroyed we must contact another Resistance vessel to take us back to the Alpha Quadrant. Seven, work with Admiral Nechayev in making contact. She is already on her way."

"Yes, Captain." Seven didn't like the idea of working with Nechayev, but she understood the purpose for doing so. The mission was completed, they wanted to return home. The Admiral had the ability to create an official Federation alliance with the Resistance and Seven was the natural ambassador as she had been with General Korok.

"Commander Torres, I'd like you to be the _Enterprise's_ liaison with _Voyager_." Picard knew Captain Chakotay was still recovering in Sickbay and the unstable tone Paris had used unsettled him. "If they require any assistance tell them we'll send whatever they need."

B'Elanna crossed her arms over her chest, but nodded her compliance. She moved to Seven's side, her eyes questioning and concerned.

"I will be fine, Commander." Seven tried to smile reassuringly, but it looked more like a grimace.

"I'm just a call away if you need anything." B'Elanna's smile was easier coming despite her trepidation of going to _Voyager _and her aversion of leaving Seven when the woman was at her most vulnerable. Seven's hardened features gave her the not so subtle hint that she did not require B'Elanna's presence at this time. They had their orders. "I'll talk with the senior staff and get back to you as soon as I can, Captain."

"Very good, Commander, dismissed." Picard waited for the doors to slide shut behind Commander Torres before he voiced the assertion that had been at the tip of his tongue since Seven mentioned the Borg Queen's existence. "You are not responsible for this, Seven. You and I know how manipulative the Queen can be."

"You are wrong." Seven's impassive expression fell away as guilt and anger filled her chest with fire. "It is my doing. The Borg knew of Admiral Janeway's plan to board the Cube because of me."

"I don't understand."

"We are no longer part of the Collective, Locutus, but we are still connected to it." Seven now understood fully how she had been made aware of Admiral Janeway's assimilation by the Cube. The Borg wanted her to be so they pushed the thoughts into her subconscious while she had been regenerating. It was the same manner in which the Borg Queen had violated her when she had been dreaming of being with Kathryn. Seven was mostly human, but she was till Borg and that part failed to keep her thoughts secret. Failed to keep Kathryn safe.

"Seven, it wasn't your fault. You had no way of knowing that—"

"I doomed Kathryn Janeway. Her image, everything that she is has been mutilated because I underestimated the Borg." The metal mesh on Seven's hand started to draw blood as it cut into her fully human one. "We must not make that same mistake again."

"What are you suggesting?"

"We must destroy the Collective, completely." Seven's eyes were wide and filled with purpose. Her voice grew loud and determined as she balled her hands into fists in front of her. "They cannot be allowed to survive."

Picard had never seen Seven so emotional before and it worried him. What worried him even more was her proposal. "That's genocide."

"Yes." Seven let her hands fall to her sides as she tried to regain her composure with labored breaths. "It is."

Admiral Nechayev said the same thing that Picard had when Seven told her of her plan to seek out the Collective and destroy it completely. Nechayev's tone, however, was much more supportive than Picard's.

"Do you believe the Resistance and Species 8472 would be cooperative in this endeavor?" Nechayev's suspicion of Seven had not lessened, but if what the former Borg drone proposed could be accomplished she would be a lot more trusting.

"Yes."

"How long before we can contact another member of the Resistance? And 8472 for that matter?" Nechayev chafed at the idea of having to defer to anyone especially Seven but she knew from her dealings with Korok that Seven was the only person the Resistance trusted.

"General Korok provided us with a subspace transmitter and a list of emergency frequencies. It will take time for it to reach the cubes. Many are not close." Seven knew that could be considered an understatement, but she also knew the vessels commanded by the Resistance would be able to traverse great distances once their messages were received and complied with.

"So, we wait." Nechayev crossed her arms as her eyes narrowed on Seven's implants. She was grateful no one had suggested trying to free the drones already assimilated. The Admiral just wanted the Borg dead. She thought Seven did as well. That's what kept her from throwing Seven in the Brig. "And we come up with a plan to annihilate the Collective."

CHAPTER 34

_U.S.S. Voyager_

B'Elanna ignored the fleeting looks of concern being tossed her way by the _Voyager_ senior staff as she listened to her husband's flat report regarding repairs that were required before the warp core could be up and running again. She had to admit Vorik was a good chief engineer, she also knew she was better and would be in the engine room herself once she contacted Picard with a list of requests.

She waited until Harry, Lyssa, Vorik, and the rest departed from the Briefing room before she spoke. "Tom, I—"

Fury filled her as Tom pushed past her towards the door. "Not now, B'Elanna, I have a ship to repair."

Tom didn't add that he was well aware that he probably had a marriage to repair as well. Despite his guilt, he fixed his wife with a hard glare when she grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her.

"Tom." B'Elanna tried to look her husband in the eye, but he refused to meet her gaze until she spoke words softly that shocked him into abruptly looking at her. "I knew about the hologram."

"What?" Tom's hardened features fell away as shame weighed heavily upon him. "B'Elanna, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me, Tom. Not to me." B'Elanna let her grip on Tom's arms fall away as she took a few steps back, since she knew he wasn't going to try to flee again. "I'll admit I was pretty disgusted with it when Harry and I found it—"

"Harry?" All the color drained from Tom's face as his voice crumbled. "He saw it too."

"Yes. We were purging files and… you know, it's not important how we came across it, Tom. What's important is that's not who you are anymore." B'Elanna wondered if Tom was even hearing her, he looked light years away. "Tom?"

"You were the one. You showed it to the captain, didn't you?" Tom's color returned in a flush of anger. "You showed it to Janeway!"

"What the hell were we supposed to do?" B'Elanna's voice rose to match the fury and volume of her husband's as she slammed a fist onto the Briefing room table. "Don't you dare try to turn this around on me! Or Harry. It was our first year, Tom, and frankly I thought you were a pig and that hologram proved it."

"It wasn't like that." Tom's anger left him quickly and he felt drained as he fell in the nearest chair. "It didn't start out that way anyway. I—I just wanted to talk to her. I wanted her to talk to me. To look at me with pride instead of disappointment and suspicion. I didn't intend for it to go any farther than that, you have to believe me."

"You could have stopped, Tom, after the first time."

Tom looked at his open palms instead of B'Elanna as he admitted his weakness. "It became an obsession, B'Elanna."

"I understand that. I do." B'Elanna thought of the time Chakotay had stopped her risky behavior in the holodeck after she had been told most of the Maquis in the Alpha Quadrant had been killed. "And Janeway did too."

"What did she—how did she react when she found out? When you told her about the hologram?" Tom was almost afraid of the answer despite the fact that Janeway had never once hinted that she knew about the hologram.

"She didn't say anything to me or Harry except to leave it alone, that she'd handled it." B'Elanna shrugged. Her understanding of the situation hadn't become any clearer until today. "I think she already knew about it. She knew a whole hell of a lot more than she let on sometimes."

"Did she know about you?" Tom hadn't meant the words to sound as accusing as they had come out, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from adding an edge to his tone. He was mortified and disgusted with himself that he had been exposed in front of his crewmates in such a humiliating way.

"Probably." B'Elanna could feel the Borg Queen's warm, moist lips upon her own before she brushed away the confusing, shameful feelings with a shrug of her shoulders. "It really doesn't matter anymore though. Neither of us stood a chance. Especially once Seven came aboard."

"We're a pair, huh?" Tom held out his hand and smiled when B'Elanna took it. He pulled her down onto his lap as he hugged her close. "I'm still sorry, B'Elanna."

"Don't be." B'Elanna placed a soft kiss on her husband's forehead before she held his head close to her chest. "It's in the past, okay? Don't let the others get to you either. What matters is who you are now. Who Janeway knew you would become. Let it go."

As Tom hugged B'Elanna close and felt their love for one another intertwine, he couldn't help but wonder what else Janeway had been aware of and how much the Borg Queen would have revealed. His curiosity was overridden by his relief that they would never find out.

CHAPTER 35

_Ha'Dara_

She emerged from the black pool of inky fluid with viscous remnants protecting her modesty, if such a creature possessed it. The oil-like substance didn't obey the laws of gravity as it shifted across her pale flesh made luminous by the sheen of dampness covering her skin. Her burnished thick auburn hair rolled in waves across her bare shoulders and down a svelte naked back. She was both gloriously beautiful and horrendously grotesque. Like a demon-woman who was possessed with great evil, power, and a delight in what her hand executed.

She cried out in ecstasy as the black fluid erupted like a volcano from the pool she had emerged from. Massive black tendrils, miles long, spread out across the surface of the planet seeking sustenance. The surface was barren so the tentacles dug deeply into the earth and found the inner molten core that would supply plenty of energy to the small, pale being on the surface. She screamed her pleasure loudly, without restraint as her tendrils continued to plunge into the planet's center.

In a matter of hours the entire planet was covered in black liquid and green lights, which gave it the appearance of being a massive Borg sphere. Soon that's exactly what it was. The Borg Queen took up residence in the molten core that would have destroyed a lesser being, but she had learned from her mistakes. Though she had the appearance of a small, bipedal specimen she was in fact constructed of a much more durable material than her predecessor that had been killed by a plasma charge. As she forced the planet out of its orbit and turned it into her vessel to seek out those who had tried to destroy her, degrade her once again, she let one individual's name escape on a breath between her lips.

"Seven."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 36

_Enterprise-E_

"But that's impossible." Doctor Beverly Crusher's voice was soft and unsure.

"I agree with you, Doctor, but the universe doesn't seem to care much for what you and I know to be impossible." Lieutenant Dina Elfiki's voice was sardonic as she turned her attention solely to Captain Picard. "And the fact is four supernovae have occurred in the span of the last three hours. The latest one was only nine point two billion kilometers away."

"The Q." Seven's voice was cool and sure. She sighed softly as all eyes turned to her. "When the Q-Continuum were entrenched in a civil war seven years ago their weapons fire manifested on this plane as supernovae. It is probable that they are the cause of these atypical supernovae as well."

"Well done!" Q clapped overenthusiastically after he appeared in the _Enterprise's_ Briefing room in a flash of white light. "At least some of you have smarts."

"Q!" Picard's ire was immense as he bolted from his chair. His face was red as he stomped towards Q with angry words ready to burst forth.

"Let's you and I go somewhere more private, hmm?" Q smirked at Seven as he snapped his fingers. They vanished in a flash of brilliant light.

"What is happening? Are you responsible for the supernovae?" Seven cared not for the white nothingness that surrounded her. Her icy blue gaze was only on Q's oddly apologetic expression.

"No, is the answer to your second inquiry. As for the first, well, let's just say the Q-Continuum's newest recruit is a bit, what you might consider… temperamental." The knowing smirk pulled at Q's lips, but it quickly vanished as he looked quite gravely at Seven. "And it's all your fault."

Seven's metallic occipital implant rose at this. "Explain."

"What your dear deceased Admiral Janeway failed to tell you was that she had a visitor the night before she embarked on that ill-conceived mission of hers. My lovely wife decided to drop by the mortal plane and warn her against going to the Cube. Much as you did. But of course dear Kathy was nothing if not supremely stubborn. She thought my wife's warning was merely a Q game. And I will admit we do like our games. But no, the warning was quite serious and if heeded would have saved many lives, including Kathryn Janeway's. But alas the valiant Admiral ignored Q's words and yours and even her own common sense and went to that Cube. What she found there no one would have suspected. She—"

"Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?"

"That's, this is impossible!" Q's voice was shrill as he watched with indignation as the Borg Queen walked towards him, her black hard body and fiery red hair standing out starkly against the white backdrop of somewhere and nowhere. He quickly stood between Seven and the Borg Queen when her obsidian eyes fell upon the former drone.

Seven's heart seemed to have stopped, despite the hammering in her chest. It must have frozen, because she could feel nothing within herself that could possibly be alive. Her blood pounding loudly in her ears defied that assertion, but she still felt outside of herself. She was motionless in her ice cold fear.

"I told your wife I'd find a way to the Q and I have. Now give me what's mine and perhaps I'll let you and your family live." The Borg Queen's diamond hard body began to expel black liquid in great tendrils that reached across the nothingness and turned it to an inky substance that began to close around Q and Seven. Q's brilliant flashes of escape were thwarted by the tentacle of black that wrapped around him and canceled out the cosmic energy usually at his disposal.

"Impossible!" Q worked frantically to release himself from the Queen's hold, but his energy was draining away and he was becoming what he appeared to be, human, weak.

"Oh, Q, 'impossible' is a word humans use." The Borg Queen shifted her attention to Seven, her gaze taking in every aspect of her form. Her curves, the metal implants, her lips, everything. "Seven of Nine, join me and I can give you what you've always wanted."

Seven couldn't look away despite her strong wish to do so. It was as if the Borg Queen's voice was hypnotizing her, forcing her gaze. Perhaps that's exactly what was occurring. She desperately wanted to close her eyes, to look away, as the Queen's hard black covering melted away and standing before Seven was a vision she had imagined countless times: Kathryn Janeway, beautiful in her pale nakedness, desire exuding from her in waves.

"I can give you this body. The body you've craved for so long. It is yours. Join me and you will have Kathryn Janeway as you've always wanted. Yours, forever." The Borg Queen drew close enough that her sweet breath brushed over Seven's parted lips. "Isn't that what you've always desired?"

Seven felt disgust fill her that couldn't hope to compete with the burning arousal flooding her body at the Borg Queen's words, her husky tones dropping Kathryn's voice as Seven had never heard it, guttural with desire.

"Yes!" The scream was torn from Seven before she roughly grabbed the Queen's slim pale body and pressed it tightly to her own as her hungry lips found the Borg Queen's.

Seven's lips were punishing upon the Queen's, but the Borg Queen merely groaned deep in her throat under the assault that she knew was as much about hate as it was love. She didn't care, Seven of Nine was hers.

"Seven! They're dying, your friends are dying!" Q's booming voice brought Seven roughly out of the kiss much to the Queen's rage.

"Seven, they are irrelevant. They never wanted you to have Kathryn. They all wanted her for themselves." The Borg Queen's black armor reasserted itself across her pale marble-like skin before she transported Q, Seven and herself to the Bridge of the _Enterprise-E_.

"My God." Picard slowly stood from his chair unable to fully comprehend what he was seeing. The Borg Queen, Seven and everything else around him faded to his peripheral as he watched the massive planet-sized Borg Cube that had been a world called Ha'Dara as it glowed brilliant from the supernova it had just devoured.

"Captain!" Worf lunged at the Borg Queen, his bat'leth in his hands, but he was quickly tossed across the Bridge by a black viscous tendril that wrapped around his body before it imprisoned him against the wall. The only reason he wasn't dead was Seven's desperate plea to the Queen which stayed her hand.

"I have no desire to have Locutus. He was the other one's obsession."

Disgusted with herself and her lack of self-control, Seven's voice was harsh and cold. "And I suppose I have that distinction now?"

"Now. Before." The Borg Queen seemed to shrug without moving a muscle. "Do you believe Kathryn Janeway wasn't obsessed with you? Do you want to know how many times, deep in the lonely nights of the Delta Quadrant, she thought of you as she touched herself? How many times she found release with your name on her lips?"

"Stop." Seven felt rage fill her at how the Borg Queen was denigrating Kathryn as her fists clenched tightly at her side. "Speaking."

"It wasn't enough that you killed her, was it?" Picard stood in front of the Queen, none of his fear showing on his hardened features as he looked at her with something akin to pity. "You have to destroy who she was because she's imprinted herself on you. You can still feel her within you, fighting you. And you know that you can take her face, her voice, but you can never have what Kathryn Janeway possessed without force."

"You know nothing." The Borg Queen's voice never rose from her normal even tones, but she was still heard above the blaring of the red alert klaxons. "You believe what I stole from Janeway was humanity. You are wrong. What I took from her is the reason I defeated your fleet, murdered your friends, slaughtered millions. Because of the knowledge I ripped from her mind when I destroyed her. The last thing you'll see before you die is Kathryn Janeway smiling at your pain while I am eating you alive."

"ENOUGH!"

The booming voice filled with power and anguish shook the _Enterprise-E_ with its force as the owner of such a capability appeared in a brilliant flash of blue light. The radiantly glowing being that had suddenly appeared on the Bridge held the arm of an unbound and flabbergasted Q in one hand and his wife's in the other. The gleaming form was too bright for mere mortals to look upon as if she were the center of a sun.

"YOU!" The Borg Queen's cry of rage preceded her tendrils erupting from her body and ensnaring the brilliantly shining being in the black viscous material. She screamed in pain when her tentacles were burned away and retracted back within herself. Through her pain the Queen snarled at the radiant creature. "You can't defeat me. I know the Q's weakness!"

"Fortunately for me, I'm not a Q." The shining light that was as blinding as it was beautiful dimmed and faded away until a single individual stood in its place. She looked deceptively small, frail, and human but all who looked upon her knew that wasn't possibly the case. This being was something else entirely. Something both unknown and yet utterly and painfully familiar. "I'm a Janeway."

"Kathryn?"

The name was expelled upon a breath. Seven's wide pale blue eyes filled with wonder and pain as she looked upon the being that had just been revealed to her. It was Kathryn Janeway, but she knew that was impossible. Seven quickly realized that what she considered to be possible was no longer relevant. The being before her not only possessed Kathryn's physical appearance to a certain extent, and her voice, as did the Borg Queen, but she also possessed Kathryn's soul. How Seven was able to know this intuitively was beyond her, but she knew it all the same. She nearly cried at the awesome wave of gratitude she felt that the Q had apparently spared Kathryn's life, or something akin to it, for this Kathryn Janeway was no mere human.

Kathryn stood very still, inhumanly still, as if her body was actually made of the white marble it appeared to be. Her large unblinking indigo eyes never left the Borg Queen's enraged face, but she could feel Seven. She could feel her pain, her joy, her fear and most of all; she could feel Seven's love for her. Kathryn let it wash over her, which caused a brilliant blue glow to encircle her and gleam off the shimmering silver armor-like sheath that covered her like flowing water and light rather than anything as tangible as fabric.

"Admiral?" Picard stood frozen at the fore of his crew while they stood like statues at the awesome sight their minds' couldn't have possibly comprehended if it hadn't been shifted onto their level of perception. And even then their minds boggled at the sight before them, though hope sprang forth within them at the sight of this vengeful angel, or was she a god, in their midst.

Picard's eyes never left Kathryn's ethereal appearance even when his ship rocked and shuddered around him. It wasn't until he heard Q's frantic voice calling his name after several failed attempts to transport with a repetitive snapping of his fingers.

"Picard! That sphere is going to devour your ship!"

"What can we do?" Picard knew already that his ship had already succumbed to the mighty gravity of the planet-sized sphere. This mythical like rendering of a woman he had once known was their only possible escape from the Borg. "What can we possibly do against such a threat?"

"You resist." Kathryn's voice filled every mind of every individual on the _Enterprise-E_, on _Voyager_, on the _Gorkon_ and beyond.

"You are no different than the Q." The Borg Queen felt her sphere's natural gravitational pull drawing the Federation ships within the black depths of her vessel and knew it would only be a matter of time before she would devour them. She smirked condescendingly at this being that dared defy her. "I know everything about you down to the last molecules of your being. You can't resist me, I have already defeated you."

"I see what you mean. Arrogant." Kathryn's eyes still rested solely upon the Borg Queen but her voice was for the Q who had tried to train her, to tame her, to make her into a Q as well.

Kathryn had resisted such a persona. She was and forever would be Kathryn Janeway, no matter what her molecular makeup. The Q had made the mistake of retaining her soul and thus her humanness. She could not be a spectator to the destruction perpetrated by this being that she had a part in creating. So she had fought against Q, defied her for the three hundred years since she had become her student, though on the mortal plane their fight had taken place over a number of days.

Sudden realization made Kathryn turn her eyes to Q. She was mussed and disempowered, but not defeated, and possessed a knowing smirk. It was Q's smile that made Kathryn comprehend that this was exactly what the Q had destined for her. They could never be seen embroiled in the affairs of mortals, but a renegade Q, their newest member, could. Her battle with the Q that had spanned many galaxies, universes, had been her training. And Kathryn knew as her eyes shone brightly when her energy field expanded further out that they had trained her well.

"Kathryn!" Seven's immobility quickly left her when Kathryn disappeared from the Bridge in a shimmer of blue light. She lunged for that light but her hands only met air and heat from the energy left behind.

"Seven." Picard moved next to Seven and touched her arm for her to shift her gaze to the viewscreen.

A brilliant and massive ball of blue energy filled the display screen and caused many to shield their eyes against the light, but not Seven and not the Borg Queen.

"No!" The Borg Queen vanished from the Bridge in a flurry of green beams of energy.

Seven felt relief that she could no longer feel the Queen's presence, but her attention was solely on the battle taking place in the space around them. The radiant blue orb was ensnared by immense black tendrils that shot out of the sphere in an almost infinite number.

Hope amongst the _Enterprise_ crew, their captain and Seven of Nine began to diminish as they watched the blue ball of energy being pulled into the gaping black depths of the Borg sphere. Even the two Q's felt worry. That was until another sphere of energy appeared, this one a golden color, moving towards the Borg ship. Then the Q's worry turned to panic as they watched their son come to the aid of his godmother, his Auntie Kathy.

"What does he think he's doing?" Q knew it was quite a human thing to say, but at the moment she was feeling infantile. She looked to her husband for an explanation.

"Showing his independence, my dear wife." Q was concerned for his son because of the danger taking on this evolved Borg Queen and the severe punishment he would receive from the Q, but he also felt pride.

"He's going to get himself killed, or worse, turned into a human again." Q wanted to freeze time, but her powers had been depleted and until she could return to the Continuum she was powerless to either help or defy her son's actions.

"Don't be coy with me. You helped dear Kathy as much as our boy is. Those little skirmishes of yours across the Universe were what alerted me to the Continuum's newest Q in the first place. Not to mention your own meddling within mortal affairs." Q's smiled affectionately and broadly as he placed an arm around Q's shoulders. "Thank you, by the way."

"She really is the most stubborn being I've ever had the misfortune of dealing with." Q relaxed against Q as they watched the battle upon the viewscreen as if they were a couple at a movie theatre.

"What is happening?" Seven's calls to the Q had been ignored until her voice rose to an infuriated roar. She approached the irritated Qs with concern, but a semblance of hope on her features.

"I told you already." Q rolled his eyes, but didn't take his eyes away from the show. He felt pride swell as his son extracted Kathryn from the sphere's grip and both orbs funneled energy into it causing the planet-size monstrosity to shake and quiver beneath the attack. "This is all your fault."

"How is it Seven's 'fault'?" Picard's irritation and bemusement matched Seven's as he stood next to the fuming woman.

"Why do you think the Borg lured Kathy to the derelict sphere in the first place? She was the bait for you. The Borg Queen hated her for taking you from them and giving you a reason to want to stay imperfectly human." Q's voice shifted from that of a teacher speaking to a not so bright student, to mocking wistfulness. "Ah, young love."

Q rolled her eyes at Seven's pained expression. "Oh, don't look so glum. She's saving the Universe after all."

Seven felt hope suffuse her chest at the certainty of Q's tone which helped to lighten her own. "She will be successful in defeating the Borg Queen?"

"That particular model, probably." Q's brow creased as he watched Kathryn's blue glow being enveloped completely by the sphere. "Well, maybe."

"Help her!" Seven went to frantically shake the Qs but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head and saw the being she knew to be the Qs' son.

"You help her." q smiled before he snapped his fingers.

"What are—" Seven's voice faded from the Bridge as her world turned into bright light.

CHAPTER 37

_Somewhere_

"—you doing?"

Seven stopped speaking as she soon realized she was within the same plane of existence Q had taken her to before the Borg Queen had infiltrated it. It appeared that she had assimilated it successfully since Seven could see nothing but blackness that shifted like an unending tar pit. Within the darkness Seven could make out faint beams of blue light and felt heartened by Kathryn's presence within the abyss.

"Seven, you have the power; she won't kill you." q stood before her appearing like a medieval knight, his gold plated armor gleamed brightly despite the darkness of the place they were in. He held a silver broadsword in his hands and offered it to Seven. "She loves you too much."

Seven wasn't sure if he was referring to the Borg Queen or this Q incarnate of Kathryn Janeway; she wondered if perhaps he meant both. She took the proffered sword from his hands and gasped as her form shimmered and shifted in golden light before she was encased by gleaming silver armor that fit her body like silk.

q smiled as he unsheathed his own sword from the scabbard on his belt. "Let's rip this bitch apart."

Seven felt it as she swung her sword and tore through the darkness to reveal more of Kathryn's blue light. She knew from the logs regarding the Q civil war that the _Voyager_ crew had been given Q-weapons that appeared to be ancient rifles and pistols. Seven knew the sword she wielded was not made of metal but pure cosmic energy. She swung it repeatedly into the black and felt her rage towards the Borg Queen and all that she had done intensify her movements to a ferocious pace.

"Seven, please."

Seven's hands stilled upon hearing Kathryn's anguished voice. She knew it was the Borg Queen, but she was still affected by the sight of her in such agony. The Queen's pale body was covered with dark red blood from multiple cuts exposed between the slow shifting of the black viscous liquid that moved across her naked form.

"Please, I only wanted us to be together." The Borg Queen fell on her knees as her body shuddered under the continuing attacks from Q's blade and Kathryn's energy. She reached a bloodied hand out to Seven with desperation in her eyes. "I love you, Seven."

"Seven!" q scrambled and fought, but the tendrils that reached out and ensnared him made his movements arduous. He was silenced by a flood of hot liquid down his throat that began devouring him alive.

"You don't have to be alone any longer, Seven." The Borg Queen's hypnotizing voice dropped the sword from Seven's hand as she moved into the Queen's arms. "You will be a part of me, forever."

They were wrong. The Q were wrong. Seven knew she was dying as a burning sensation came over her in an unrelenting series of agonizing waves. She couldn't even scream. Seven also knew that the Borg Queen's carnal grin as she fed, a grotesque perversion of Kathryn's bright and loving smile, would be the last thing she would ever see.

"Release her."

Seven heard Kathryn's voice from very far away. It was muddled as if she was hearing it from deep underwater, but she still smiled upon hearing it as her world began to fade away. Just when Seven thought death was a moment away, she was pulled from its grasp by a brilliant blue light.

"Kathryn!" Seven was brought to her feet by q, who looked uninjured, his armor untarnished from the fight. Her own armor had been replaced by a Grecian dress that draped in pale, shimmering blue layers around her. Seven cared not for her appearance, or q's revival, her eyes only on the two beings merging together in a frenzy of blue light and pitch darkness.

The Borg Queen snarled as she felt herself being burned and enveloped within Kathryn's crackling blue blaze. Kathryn gritted her teeth against the pain of being eaten away by the black fluid covering her body. She knew neither would give an inch and so both were rapidly approaching their mutual annihilation. Kathryn only had the ability to painfully extract one word from her throat.

"Go!"

"No!" Seven screamed as she was transported within q's energy and fell upon the deck of the _Enterprise's_ Bridge. "Kathryn!"

Seven scrambled to her feet and pushed past the immobilized crew to watch the massive explosion displayed upon the viewscreen. An explosion that size would have vaporized the surrounding solar systems and of course the Federation ships and their crew, but the Q protected them despite their inability to reverse the inevitable. Finally the space stilled, the Borg sphere rendered into cosmic dust, and Seven watched helplessly as Kathryn Janeway sacrificed herself once again.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 38

_Enterprise-E_

"Captain, there—there's something strange out there."

Seven barely registered Lieutenant Kadohata's frantic words as she continued to watch the last blue fragments of energy that had been Kathryn Janeway fade away into the blackness of space. Her body felt numb and breathing became a laborious endeavor as she forced herself to stay upright and not to fall to the floor as her anguish fought against her self-control.

"Be more specific, Lieutenant." Picard's irritation was more for himself than Kadohata. He had once again been unable to prevent Kathryn Janeway's demise at the hand of the Borg. He had been rendered a spectator; a useless bystander. Picard didn't dare look at Seven for his pain at failing her as well as Admiral Janeway was too great.

"I'm reading—I'm not sure what I'm reading." Kadohata's dark eyes were wide as she tried to make sense of the multitude of contradictory information that seemed so impossible. Then again, she had just witnessed a fight between a Borg sphere the size of a planet and a blue glowing ball of energy that had been a Starfleet Admiral. Perhaps she would need to expand her definition of possible. "It's a human life sign, sir."

Picard's eyes went wide as he moved them quickly from the viewscreen to Lieutenant Kadohata. "Human?"

Seven quickly pushed past Picard, Worf and a few other irrelevant _Enterprise_ crewmembers before she commandeered the Ops station from an indignant Miranda Kadohata. "That is not all. There is a faint Borg energy signature, as well as a power signature I do not recognize."

"Oh yes, what could that indecipherable power signature possibly be?" Q smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. His haughty expression didn't diminish in the least despite the seriousness of his tone as he addressed the captain. "Beam her aboard or she'll die from exposure no matter how powerful she is."

"Captain, it's Borg." Worf's warning tone rumbled deep in his throat as he pressed his hand to the damage the Borg Queen had left on his broad chest.

Seven was again bombarded by a wave of intense emotions, contradictory ones. She wanted to believe what Q was saying without him ever actually saying her name aloud: Kathryn was still alive. But she also shared Worf's assertion that they should not bring anything with even the faintest of Borg signatures onboard the _Enterprise_. As she warred with her indecision, her fear and her hope, Picard made the decision for her. For all of them.

"Picard to Sickbay."

"Crusher here."

Picard nearly smiled at the relief and affection he could read within Beverly's tones. Celebrations would have to come later. "I'm transporting an unknown entity directly to Sickbay, accompanied by a full security detail."

There was a long pause before Beverly's voice, betraying none of her fear, replied, "Acknowledged."

"You have the Bridge, Commander." Picard's pointed gaze stayed Worf's protests. The captain moved towards the Ops station with a compassionate expression gracing his features. "Seven, you're with me."

"Yes, Captain." Seven held her chin high as she rigidly followed Picard to the turbolift.

They rode the lift in silence, each one deep in their own thoughts. A small muscle jumped beneath the starburst implant on Seven's jawline when the doors opened onto Deck Eight. The journey to Sickbay lasted only a few minutes, but to Seven it felt like infinitely longer. She wanted desperately to see the being they had just beamed aboard and yet she feared what she would find as well.

Picard was startled to see the trio of Q surrounding a biobed and none of his security guards after the doors to Sickbay had slid open for Seven and him. If he didn't know better all three Q looked a bit confused by what they were seeing. That bemusement on their part fueled Picard's dread of what lay on that biobed.

"Captain, I simply have no diagnosis." Beverly's green eyes were alight with worry as she looked up at Picard, before her attention shifted to Seven.

Doctor Crusher clearly recalled how broken the young woman had been when she had awakened in the _Enterprise_ Sickbay after Admiral Janeway, the Borg Queen, had been defeated. It had only been a few months ago, but it seemed like a lifetime.

"Seven." Beverly gently placed a warm hand on Seven's shoulder despite knowing the other woman didn't exactly welcome another's touch upon her. Doctor Crusher's soft tones brought Seven's wide pale blue gaze to her as the doctor continued with all the seriousness the situation called for. "She appears to be Kathryn Janeway, but I can't be sure. My scans can't penetrate beyond the superficial. She also appears to have Borg implants, though I can't even be sure of that. Honestly, I've never seen anything like this."

Seven barely registered anything Doctor Crusher had just said other than Kathryn's name as she slowly moved towards the biobed. She felt outside of herself, outside of the _Enterprise_ and reality altogether as she looked upon the still form of a being of such indescribable beauty that it brought tears to Seven's eyes and a sharp pain to her chest as she gazed down upon her.

It was her Kathryn, resurrected as a creature of white flawless flesh that gleamed beautifully beneath the harsh Sickbay lights. Kathryn's long, wavy crimson hair fell across her bare shoulders, the gray fabric of the biobed and across the silver thermo sheet, which covered her from her naked collar bones on down. Kathryn processed an internal source of brilliant blue light which flashed intermittently beneath her epidermis. Her body was sporadically covered by thin wiring that looked more like lines of black onyx than metal. With each breath Kathryn took into her body her blue light dimmed and the implants melted beneath flesh until she exhaled and the light shone brilliantly once more and the wiring reemerged.

"Beautiful, isn't it? And yet terrible." Q shook his head at the fate that would be Kathryn Janeway's for perhaps eternity. She was human, Borg and Q and yet something entirely new and separate than the sum of her parts.

"Will she be all right?" Picard's voice was soft, tremulous as he too looked upon this inexplicable being.

"Alive, yes. 'All right'? I have no way of knowing that." Q's voice was resigned. It was such a strange thing for a seemingly all-knowing omnipotent being to say, but it was the truth.

"What will become of her?" Seven didn't dare touch Kathryn despite her deep desire to brush her fingers across Kathryn's still features, to feel her, to know that Kathryn was really real.

"She's no longer Q, not exactly anyway, so the Q's power over her is defunct." Q didn't mention that he and his family were still very much under the Q's purview and would most likely be punished for their meddling. But that seemed a distant concern at the moment. "The Borg Queen was destroyed along with her sphere, but our dear Kathy was still affected by her attempts to absorb her. Infected is perhaps the more accurate term. She'll learn to conceal those unsightly implants after she is conscious."

Seven felt relief wash over her at the finality of Q's statement regarding the Borg Queen. But it was only a short respite as her all-consuming concern for Kathryn colored her tones. "Why is she not conscious now?"

"That was our doing." Q's voice was light, but her features were quite serious as she spoke her warning. "She may not be a Q anymore, but she's still very powerful."

"Wake her, Seven." q's smirk was a mirror of his father's as his warm tones coaxed Seven towards Kathryn. "Only you can. Speak her name, kiss her lips and she will awaken."

Q rolled his eyes while he sighed in exasperation. "Oh Junior, how absurdly romantic you have become over the last millennia."

"Is he serious?" Crusher's voice was bemused as she looked at the being that appeared to be a young dark haired man though she knew he was obviously anything but.

"Unfortunately, yes." Q sighed in resignation of her child's odd sense of humor as she nudged Seven towards the bed. "Come on, Seven, it's not a secret that you want to."

Seven rolled her shoulders in discomfort though her expression only held love as she looked upon Kathryn's elegant features. "Kathryn?"

Kathryn's lips upon hers were warm, too warm. Seven felt a surge of energy pass through her body, which made her pull away from the kiss and cry out in surprise. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling; it was actually quite the opposite. Seven shifted uncomfortably as arousal pumped hotly through her and showed in the heat that reddened her cheeks.

"I think our work here is done. It's been fun but we have a court date we just can't be late for." Q's words echoed even as he, his wife and son vanished from the _Enterprise's_ Sickbay in three brilliant flashes of light. Picard, Seven and Crusher might have wondered at the fact that none of the three Q's had snapped their fingers, but their attentions were occupied with the being lying on the biobed.

"Seven?"

Kathryn's raspy voice stopped Seven's world, or at least that's what it felt like to her as her pale blue eyes met Kathryn's indigo gaze. Seven's voice was a soft, reverent whisper. "Kathryn."

"I'm not dead, am I?" Kathryn looked around the Sickbay and figured she probably wasn't unless her heaven or hell was the _Enterprise-E's_ Sickbay. "No, I suppose I wouldn't be heralded into the afterlife by Doctor Crusher wielding a medical tricorder in front of my face."

Crusher snorted indelicately at Kathryn's derisive tone although Picard's voice sounded over it. "Admiral?"

"I haven't been an admiral for over three centuries." Kathryn's voice was almost wistful, nostalgic but lost none of its sharp edge. "Though it is oddly nice to hear."

"Kathryn, are you well?" Seven's brow creased at the inane question, but she had to be sure this wasn't a dream. She had to know that Kathryn Janeway had returned to her.

"I'm not sure if 'well' would be the word I would use." Kathryn was scornful as she held her hands out before her and watched as the black wiring running like veins atop of her flesh interacted with the blue light gleaming beneath her skin. She forced the evidence of her Borgness beneath her skin. "I have no idea what I am."

"You are Kathryn Janeway." Seven grasped Kathryn's hands and ignored how the heat from the blue energy warmed her body as she held strong sincerity in her unyielding gaze.

"Yes, I know." Kathryn extracted her hands from Seven's hold, not liking the painful feelings having Seven touch her caused. She didn't intend for her voice to be so harsh, so condescending especially not to Seven but she couldn't seem to help herself. "I'm the one who has been telling Q that for the last three hundred years. I know perfectly well _who_ I am. It's what I am that concerns me."

Kathryn felt like she had fire in her veins and the heat of it suffused her body, nearly to the point of pain. It was infuriating to feel so powerless in one's own body, but that's what she had felt for so long. First with the Borg making her their Queen and then the Q trying to form a Q out of her. And now, now she didn't know what the hell she had become. A monster, it would appear. An amalgamation of all she had been. Human. Borg. Q. And yet nothing at the same time. She was nothing.

Seven felt inept, powerless to help Kathryn even though it seemed to her that Kathryn did not even want her help. Kathryn's voice was so unkind that Seven felt sick with the unpleasantness it caused within her. She had wished for Kathryn not to be dead for so long. To return to her, somehow. Seven now understood the essence of the old Earth idiom, "be careful for what you wish for", but despite her discomfort she internally rejoiced at having Kathryn Janeway with her again. Worf's voice over the comm. reminded Seven that there was still a world outside of the _Enterprise's_ Sickbay. Being in Kathryn presence once again had distracted her of that fact.

"Bridge to Captain Picard."

"Picard, here."

"Sir, contact has just been reestablished with the _Voyager_. They are reporting several injuries, but no causalities. They are requesting repair teams be sent over to try to seal the hull breaches."

Worf's final words were overlaid by Kathryn's low, certain voice. "_Voyager_ is fine."

"Sir? Belay that. The _Voyager_ is reporting… no hull breaches, no damage of any kind. Captain Chakotay is requesting to speak with you."

"Tell Captain Chakotay I will contact him shortly. Picard out." Picard looked carefully at Kathryn. Her hard features betrayed nothing, so he had to ask perhaps an inane question. "Did you repair _Voyager_?"

"Of course I did." Kathryn's voice was irritated because she could sense what they would be asking of her next. She preempted their questions and requests. "Tell them nothing of me. The less they know the better."

"Kathryn, they believe you are still dead." Seven's brow creased. She did not like nor understand Kathryn's despondency and it showed in her voice. "You must tell—"

"No, Seven, I _must_ do nothing." Kathryn moved off of the biobed with grace and strength. Without batting an eye her form was wrapped in a dark red dress that draped across her body like thick waves of blood, which contrasted with her pale skin drastically. "I will send you all back to the Alpha Quadrant, to Sector 001, but I won't be going with you. I can't."

Seven's voice left her completely, so it was Picard who spoke out against such a course of action.

"What would you have me put in my report, Admiral? And what do I tell my crew who witnessed you destroying the Borg?"

"The Q intervened." Kathryn appeared to shrug, though no part of her inhumanly still body moved. "As for your crew, leave that to me."

"You can't do that!"

"I can do many things, Doctor, wholly without your permission. What you must understand is that I can't go back. You have no idea how powerful I am. How dangerous." Kathryn's voice lost some of its ice-cold hardness as something a kin to shame shadowed over her features, but anger was in her voice. "Believe me; they're better off not knowing."

"Captain, Doctor, leave us." Seven's narrowed gaze never left Kathryn's face, despite the protests from both Crusher and Picard. She stayed their denials with one simple word. "Please."

Neither Seven nor Kathryn watched as Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher left. Their eyes were only for one another. After the _Sickbay_ doors closed behind the couple, it was Seven who spoke first.

"You are wrong. You are not allowing them the closure they require, Kathryn." Seven maintained her distance, so she did her pleading with her eyes and her voice. "They are grieving for you, terribly. How can you be unfeeling to that?"

"Oh, Seven, you can't possibly know the depth of my grief." Kathryn's voice was a soft whisper, but within the silence of Sickbay it was easily discernable as was the pain in her husky tones. "The cosmos themselves wept with me for three centuries. I destroyed entire solar systems, hundreds of worlds, billions of lives in my grief. Of course I had Q to undo all of my destruction and I'll be eternally grateful to her for that, but the fact remains I was responsible for all of it. And before that, before the Q claimed me as theirs, I gave the Borg the ability to destroy humanity once and for all. It was me, I gave that to them because I had to go to that Cube. I knew it was wrong, arrogant of me to go. You told me, the Q told me, hell I even told myself and yet I still went. To prove to myself that I wasn't afraid of the Borg. That like anything else they could be conquered. I was wrong and my mistake killed millions. And I felt it all, trapped within the Borg Queen, my prison. And then here in the Delta Quadrant I could see everything, all the pain she was able to inflict upon you, my family, because of me. Because of what she had taken from me. I saw her take my love for my crew and pervert it just because she thought it was entertaining. She killed so many people, Seven, devouring them alive and reveling in their agony. Jaffen. Kohlar. Each and every death I felt as if it were my own, every scream, all their fear. So, please, don't presume to tell me how 'unfeeling' I am. I feel more than you can possibly comprehend."

Seven nearly snorted or rolled her eyes. Even after three hundred years of existing as a Q Kathryn Janeway was exactly the same.

"You are not to blame for what the Borg did to you, Kathryn. Anymore than I am. I assimilated hundreds of individuals personally. It was not my choice, as the Borg Queen's actions were not yours. Your guilt is irrelevant. As for the Q; they manipulated you to serve their own purposes and there was no sustainable damage inflicted." Seven thought back to a turn of phrase she had once heard Naomi Wildman speaking. "Discontinue throwing yourself this 'pity party'."

Kathryn's wide indigo eyes blinked once, twice and a third time before she finally succumbed to the feeling bubbling up within her and she laughed out loud. It was a soft, melodic sound that filled the _Sickbay_. It washed over the surfaces of the biobeds and medical equipment, which caused them to tremble slightly, and filled Seven with warmth and light.

"Oh, Seven, how I've missed you." Kathryn's broad toothy smile and sparkling eyes were the last remnants of her laughter as she looked upon a woman who would openly chastise a semi-omnipotent being and accuse it of throwing a juvenile tantrum.

"I have missed you as well, Kathryn." Seven felt her full lips pulling up into a small smile. She was still apprehensive as to what Kathryn's course of action would be, but there was something so humanizing in that laugh that it had filled Seven with great hope and love. Her smile faded completely as she felt pain constrict her chest, her voice tremulous as she continued to look upon Kathryn. She barely blinked in fear that Kathryn would vanish, never to have been there at all. A dream. "I believed you were dead."

"I know. And I still am, to an extent. Seven, you know as well as I do that my body was vaporized when the cube imploded. I did die. What Q salvaged was my soul, for lack of a better description. She offered me a new existence and it wasn't exactly something I was in a position to want to refuse. And really, I didn't want to. It was an exciting prospect, but then…" Kathryn took a deep inhalation which caused the shimmering red that concealed her form to shift across her body. Her voice was remorseful as her indigo eyes moved away from Seven to look at her own white hands. "I saw you, Seven. I could feel you, always. I could see your struggle, your anguish. I felt your grief like a physical pain in my chest. I never wanted to cause you pain, ever, but I saw that I did and that's when I knew I could never be Q. Because I could never forget how much Kathryn Janeway's soul was so entwined with your own, Seven. I could never forget how much I love you."

Kathryn was in Seven's arms before the latter even realized she had crossed the distance between them with three long strides. Her arms crushed Kathryn to her so tightly that if the person in her arms was actually human Seven would have broken a few of her ribs. Seven felt tears fall onto her cheeks as she breathed in Kathryn's scent, felt her hard body relaxing in her embrace and heard the husky voice speaking words she had always longed to hear.

"Seven, I've been in love with you for so long I don't even remember how it felt not to have you in my heart. And I don't want to." Kathryn pulled back from Seven's arms so she could gently brush away the hot tears that streaked across Seven's flushed cheeks. Her voice softened to a quietness barely perceptible to even Seven's enhanced hearing. "But I can't go back."

"Then I will go with you." Seven's voice became as hard and rigid as her posture had just become due to Kathryn's words. Her metal encased hand trembled as she brought it to cup Kathryn's face and felt the warmth and softness of that pale flawless skin beneath her touch. Seven's words were said gently, but there was a finality to them that not even Kathryn's stubbornness could hope to demolish. "I will not be without you again. Do you know the depth of my love for you? Did you feel that through my pain and grief?"

"Yes. I did." Kathryn's gaze brushed across Seven's features like a caress as she recalled how even in her darkest moments Seven's love for her had sustained her. She felt that love like an intoxicating drug that tempted her into doing the wrong thing. Her sense of responsibility overruled her desire to remain with Seven, forever. "Seven, I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous for me to—"

Seven crushed Kathryn's body to hers as her full lips silenced the other woman's words. What Seven felt through her entire being when Kathryn responded to her kiss, actively made it deeper, more fervent, wilder, was nothing she could have ever imagined. What she had felt after her chaste kiss had awakened Kathryn from Q's ministrations was nothing compared to the hot, overwhelming arousal that surged through her body and her soul. She wanted to be one with Kathryn, as much as two women who strived to be human ever could.

Kathryn's red sheath felt like liquid in Seven's hands as she attempted to rip it from the other woman's hard pale body. Her attempts were stopped by firm hands on her wrists and Kathryn pulling away from their kiss.

"Seven, we mustn't do this. It's too dangerous."

In her desire-laden haze Seven didn't quite comprehend what Kathryn was saying at first until her mind cleared and she saw precisely what it was that Kathryn meant. Kathryn's pearly white skin was now a dark blue as energy lit her from within. Seven looked down at her own hands and saw that they too glowed blue. It didn't alarm her though because she knew Kathryn would never harm her. The glow actually made Seven feel stronger and infinitely aroused.

"Seven, I—I'm afraid I'll hurt you." Kathryn tempered down her energy output as she forced her body to calm after the onslaught of desire she had felt when Seven had mercilessly claimed her lips.

"I was afraid that I could harm you as well. I was unsure if I would be able to control my strength if you and I ever… if we were ever intimate." Seven pulled Kathryn to her once again as she pressed a hand to the small of the other woman's back. She could feel the energy pulsating between their bodies and relished in the warmth it endowed her with. Her voice was coaxing as her breath whispered over Kathryn's parted lips. "I no longer have that fear. Do not be afraid of this, of us. I am not."

"It's not that simple, Seven, I need some time to more easily control my—" Kathryn was once again silenced by Seven's lips upon her own and suddenly all of her fears melted away and all that remained was the intractable fact that Seven was kissing her. And nothing else in the vast Universe seemed to matter more than that. Kathryn Janeway had found what the Borg Queen craved and tried to force and what the Q had known would lure her back to the mortal plane. She had found an all-consuming love that entwined two souls so completely that not even death could wrench them apart. Along with Kathryn's heart, the cosmos rejoiced.

The End


End file.
